By  CHARLES  G.D.ROBERTS 

%Jr'\ 


/yo 


THE  LIBHAKY 
OF 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


"I  saw  her  as  she  stood  in  the  orchard."      (See  p.  7.) 


A  Sister  to   Evangeline 

Being  the  Story  of  Tvonne  de  Lamourie, 

and  how  she  went  into  exile  with 

the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre 


By 

Charles   G.   D.   Roberts 

Author  of  The  Forge  in  the  Forest,  The  Heart  of  the 

Ancient  Wood,  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas,  Earth's 

Enigmas.  New  York  Nocturnes,  &e. 


New  Edition,  with  Illustrations 


GROSSET      6-      DUNLAP 
NEW      YORK          PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1898, 
By  Lamson,  Wolffe  and  Company. 

All  rights  reserved. 

Copyright,  1900, 
By  Silver,  Burdett  and  Company. 

All  rights  reserved. 


n 

MY    MOTHER 

EMMA   WETMORE    BLISS    ROBERTS 


THE  LIBKAKY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS 


2132301 


Contents 

Chapter  Page 

I.  Paul  Grande' s  Home-coming  to  Grand  Pre,          i 

II.  Grul's  Warning    .           .           .          .           .11 

III.  Charms  and  Counter-charms  .          .          .15 

IV.  "Habet!" 23 

V.  The  Black  Abbe  Defers           .          .          .31 

VI.  A  New  England  Englishman           .          .        36 

VII.     Guard! 43 

VIII.  The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough        .          .        50 

IX.  In  Sleep    a   King ;  but  Waking,  no    such 

Matter  .          .          .          .          .          •        58 

X.  A  Grand  Pre  Morning            ...        66 

XI.     Father  Fafard 77 

XII.  Le  Furet  at  the  Ferry    ....        87 

XIII.  Unwilling  to  be  Wise    .          .          .          -94 

XIV.  Love  Me,  Love  My  Dog       .          .          .100 
XV.  Ashes  as  it  were  Bread            .          .          .105 

XVI.  The  Way  of  a  Maid     .          .          .          .112 

XVII.  Memory  is  a  Child      .  .          .          .          .      1 1 7 

XVIII.  For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep  .          .          .125 

XIX.  The  Borderland  of  Life          .          .          .      135 


Vlll 


Contents 


Chapter  Page 

XX.  But  Mad  Nor-nor-west       .  .  .142 

XXI.  Beausejour,  and  After          .  .  .149 

XXII.  Grul's  Case 156 

XXIII.  At  Gaspereau  Lower  Ford  .  .      161 

XXIV.  "  If  you  love  me,  leave  me  "  .  .168 
XXV.  Over  Gaspereau  Ridge        .  .  ,      177 

XXVI.  The  Chapel  Prison               .  .  .182 

XXVII.  Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams  .      191 

XXVIII.  The  Ships  of  her  Exile       .  .  .200 

XXIX.  The  Hour  of  her  Desolation  .  .      208 

XXX.  A  Woman's  Privilege           .  .  .218 

XXXI.  Young  Will  and  Old  Wisdom  .  .229 

XXXII.  Aboard  the  •«  Good  Hope  "  .  .      238 

XXXIII.  The  Divine  Right  of  Queens  .  .      246 

XXXIV.  The  Soul's  Supremer  Sense  .  .254 
XXXV.  The  Court  in  the  Cabin     .  .  .260 

XXXVI.  Sword  and  Silk          .         .  .  .268 

XXXVII.  Fire  in  Ice        .          .          .  .  .      279 

XXXVIII.  Of  Long  Felicity  Brief  Word  .  .      285 


Illustrations 


"  I  saw  her  as  she  stood  in  the  orchard  ' '    Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

"  I  ...  sat  gazing  dumbly  at  the  white  figure 

in  the  moonlight  "         .  .          .          .        52 

«*  Anderson     let .  him    drop    upon    the    under- 
brush "  .  .  .  .  .132 

"  But  what  more  engrossed  their  eyes  was  the 

end  of  Grand  Pre "  .          .          .232 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Chapter  I 
Paul  Grande's  Home-coming  to  Grand  Pre 


REV  EN  ANT  a  la  Belle 
words  sang  themselves  over  and  over  in 
my  brain,  but  I  could  get  no  further  than  that 
one  line,  try  as  I  might.  I  felt  that  it  was  the 
beginning  of  a  song  which,  if  only  I  could  imprison 
it  in  my  rhyme,  would  stick  in  the  hearts  of  our 
men  of  Acadie,  and  live  upon  their  lips,  and  be 
sung  at  every  camp  and  hearth  fire,  as  "  A  la 
Claire  Fontaine  "  is  sung  by  the  voyageurs  of  the 
St.  Lawrence.  At  last  I  perceived,  however,  that 
the  poem  was  living  itself  out  at  that  moment  in 
my  heart,  and  did  not  then  need  the  half-futile 
expression  that  words  at  best  can  give.  But  I  did 
put  it  into  words  at  a  later  day,  when  at  last  I 
found  myself  able  to  set  it  apart  and  view  it  with 
clear  eyes  ;  and  you  shall  judge,  maybe,  when  I 
come  to  put  my  verses  into  print,  whether  I  sue- 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 


ceeded  in  making  the  words  rhyme  fairly  and  the 
volatile  syllables  march  at  measured  pace.  The 
art  of  verse  has  never  been  much  practised  among 
us  Acadians,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  some  pride  to 
me  that  I,  a  busy  soldier,  now  here  at  Grand  Pre 
and  anon  at  Mackinaw  or  Natchez,  taking  in  my 
hand  my  life  more  often  than  a  pen,  should  have 
mastered  even  the  rudiments  of  an  art  so  lofty  and 
exacting. 

So,  for  awhile,  "  Home  again  to  Acadie  the 
Fair  "  was  all  that  I  could  say. 

It  was  surely  enough.  I  had  come  over  from 
Piziquid  afoot,  by  the  upper  trail,  and  now,  having 
crossed  the  Gaspereau  where  it  narrows  just  above 
tide-water,  I  had  come  out  upon  the  spacious 
brow  of  the  hill  that  overlooks  Grand  Pre  village. 

Not  all  my  wanderings  had  shown  me  another 
scene  so  wonderful  as  that  wide  prospect.  The 
vale  of  the  Five  Rivers  lay  spread  out  before  me, 
with  Grand  Pre,  the  quiet  metropolis  of  the  Aca- 
dian people,  nestling  in  her  apple-bloom  at  my 
feet.  There  was  the  one  long  street,  thick-set  with 
its  wide-eaved  gables,  and  there  its  narrow  sub- 
sidiary lane  descending  from  the  slopes  upon  my 
left.  Near  the  angle  rose  the  spire  of  the  village 
church,  glittering  like  gold  in  the  clear  flood  of 
the  sunset.  And  everywhere  the  dear  apple-blos- 
soms. For  it  was  spring  in  Acadie  when  I  came 
home. 


Paul  Grande's  Home-coming  3 

Beyond  the  village  and  its  one  black  wharf  my 
eyes  ranged  the  green,  wind-ruffled  marshes,  safe 
behind  the  sodded  circumvallations  of  their  dykes. 
Past  the  dykes,  on  either  side  of  "  the  island's  " 
wooded  rampart,  stretched  the  glowing  miles  of 
the  flats  ;  for  the  tides  of  Minas  were  at  ebb.  How 
red  in  the  sunset,  molten  copper  threaded  with 
fire,  those  naked  reaches  gleamed  that  night ! 
Their  color  was  like  a  blare  of  trumpets  challeng- 
ing the  peace  of  the  Five  Rivers. 

Past  the  flats,  smooth  and  dazzling  to  the  eye  at 
such  a  distance,  lay  the  waters  of  Minas.  Well  I 
knew  how  their  unsleeping  eddies  boiled  and 
seethed  about  the  grim  base  of  Blomidon.  Such 
tricks  does  memory  serve  one  that  even  across 
that  wide  tranquillity  I  seemed  to  hear  the  depre- 
dating clamour  of  those  tides  upon  the  shingle. 

Though  it  was  now  two  years  since  I  had  seen 
the  gables  and  apple-trees  of  Grand  Pre,  I  was  in 
no  haste  to  descend  into  the  village.  There  came 
a  sudden  sinking  at  my  heart,  as  my  heart  in- 
quired, with  unseasonable  pertinence,  by  what 
right  I  continued  to  call  Grand  Pre  "  home "  ? 
The  thought  was  new  to  me;  and  that  I  might 
fairly  consider  it  I  seated  myself  upon  the  broad 
stump  of  a  birch-tree,  felled  the  preceding  winter. 

By  far  the  smaller  portion  of  my  life  had  been 
spent  in  the  Acadian  village  —  only  my  early  boy- 
hood, before  the  years  of  schooling  at  Quebec; 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 


and  afterwards  the  fleeting  sweetness  of  some  too 
brief  visits,  that  lay  in  my  memory  like  pools  of 
enchanted  leisure  in  a  desert  of  emulous  conten- 
tions. My  father,  tenderest  and  bravest  of  all  men 
that  I  have  known,  rested  in  an  unmarked  grave 
beside  the  northern  wash  of  the  Peribonca.  My 
uncle,  Jean  de  Mer,  Sieur  de  Briart,  was  on  the 
Ohio,  fighting  the  endless  battle  of  France  in  the 
western  wildernesses.  His  one  son,  my  one  cousin, 
the  taciturn  but  true-hearted  Marc,  was  with  his 
father,  spending  himself  in  the  same  quarrel.  I 
thought  with  a  longing  tenderness  of  these  two  — 
the  father  full  of  high  faith  in  the  triumph  of  New 
France,  the  son  fighting  obstinately  in  what  he 
held  a  lost  cause,  caring  mainly  that  his  father  still 
had  faith  in  it.  I  wished  mightily  that  their  brave 
hands  could  clasp  mine  in  welcome  back  to  Grand 
Pre.  I  thought  of  their  two  fair  New  England 
wives,  left  behind  at  Quebec  to  shame  by  their  gay 
innocence  the  corruption  of  Bigot's  court.  Kindred 
I  had  none  in  Grand  Pre,  unless  one  green  grave 
in  the  churchyard  could  be  called  my  kin  —  the 
grave  wherein  my  mother's  girlish  form  and  laugh- 
ing eyes  had  been  laid  to  sleep  while  I  was  yet  a 
child. 

Yes,  I  had  no  kinsfolk  to  greet  me  back  to 
Grand  Pre ;  no  roof  of  mine  that  I  should  call  it 
home.  But  friends,  loyal  friends,  would  welcome 
me,  I  knew.  There  was  Father  Fafard,  the  firm 


Paul  Grande's  Home-coming  5 

and  gentle  old  priest,  to  whom,  of  course,  I  should 
go  just  as  if  I  were  of  his  flesh  and  blood.  Then 
there  were  the  De  Lamouries  — 

Yes,  to  be  sure,  the  De  Lamouries.  And  here  I 
took  myself  by  the  chin  and  laughed.  I  know 
that,  for  all  my  verses,  I  am  in  the  main  a  soldier, 
yet  I  am  so  far  a  poet  as  to  suffer  myself  to  befool 
myself  at  times,  and  get  a  passing  satisfaction  out 
of  it.  But  I  always  face  the  fact  before  I  express 
it  in  act.  I  acknowledged  to  myself  that  I  had 
been  thinking  of  the  De  Lamouries'  pleasant  farm- 
house, and  of  somewhat  that  it  contained,  when  I 
sang  "  Home  again  to  Acadie  the  Fair." 

I  remembered  with  a  pleasant  warmth  the  tall, 
bent  figure,  fierce  eyes,  and  courtly  air  of  Giles  de 
Lamourie,-  the  broken  gentleman,  who  through 
much  misfortune  and  some  fault  had  fallen  from  a 
high  place  at  Versailles  and  been  fain  to  hide  him- 
self on  an  Acadian  farm.  I  thought  also  of  Madame, 
his  wife,  a  wizened  little  woman  with  nothing  left, 
said  the  villagers,  to  remind  one  of  the  loveli- 
ness which  had  once  dazzled  Louis  himself.  To 
me  she  seemed  an  amazingly  interesting  woman, 
whose  former  beauty  could  still  be  guessed  from 
its  ruins. 

Both  of  these  good  people  I  remembered  with 
a  depth  of  concern  far  beyond  the  deserts  of  such 
casual  friendlinesses  as  they  had  shown  me.  As 
I  looked  down  toward  their  spacious  apple- 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 


orchard,  on  the  furthest  outskirts  of  the  village,  it 
was  borne  in  upon  me  that  they  had  one  claim  to 
distinction  beyond  all  others. 

They  had  achieved  Yvonne. 

Many  a  time  had  I  wondered  how  my  cousin 
Marc  could  have  had  eyes  for  his  ruddy-haired 
Puritan  lily  when  there  was  Yvonne  de  La- 
mourie  in  the  world.  On  my  last  two  visits  to 
Grand  Pre  I  had  seen  her ;  not  many  times,  in- 
deed, nor  much  alone ;  and  never  word  of  love  had 
passed  between  us.  In  truth,  I  had  not  known  that 
I  loved  her  in  those  days.  I  had  taken  a  wonder- 
ing delight  in  her  beauty  and  her  wit,  but  of  the 
pretty  trifles  of  compliment  and  the  careless  gal- 
lantries that  so  often  simulate  love  I  had  offered 
her  none  at  all.  This  surprised  me  the  more 
afterward,  as  women  had  ever  found  me  somewhat 
lavish  in  such  light  coin.  I  think  I  was  withheld 
by  the  great  love  unrealized  in  my  heart,  which 
found  expression  then  only  in  such  white  rever- 
ence as  the  devotee  proffers  to  his  saint.  I  think, 
too,  I  was  restrained  by  the  consciousness  of  a 
certain  girl  at  Trois  Pistoles  on  the  St.  Lawrence, 
who,  if  I  might  believe  my  vanity,  loved  me,  and 
to  whom,  if  I  might  believe  my  conscience,  I  had 
given  some  sort  of  claim  upon  my  honor.  I  cared 
naught  for  the  girl.  I  had  never  intended  any- 
thing but  a  light  and  passing  affair ;  but  somehow 
it  had  not  seemed  to  me  light  when  Yvonne  de 


Paul  Grande's  Home-coming  7 

Lamourie's  eyes  were  upon  me.  A  little  afterward, 
revisiting  Trois  Pistoles  on  my  way  to  the  western 
lakes,  I  had  found  the  maiden  married  to  a  pros- 
perous trader  of  Quebec.  In  the  leaping  joy  that 
seized  my  heart  at  the  news  I  perceived  how  my 
fetters  had  galled ;  and  I  knew  then,  though  at 
first  but  dimly,  that  if  anywhere  in  the  world  there 
awaited  me  such  a  love  as  I  had  dreamed  of 
sleeping,  but  ever  doubted  waking,  —  the  love 
that  should  be  not  a  pastime,  but  a  prayer,  not  an 
episode,  but  an  eternity,  —  it  awaited  me  in  Grand 
Pre  village. 

In  my  heart  these  two  years  I  had  carried  two 
clear  visions  of  my  mistress.  Strange  to  tell,  they 
were  not  bedimmed  by  the  much  handling  which 
they  had  endured.  They  but  seemed  to  grow  the 
brighter  and  fresher  from  being  continually  pressed 
to  the  kisses  of  my  soul. 

In  one  of  these  I  saw  her  as  she  stood  a  certain 
morning  in  the  orchard,  prying  with  insistent  little 
finger-tips  into  the  heart  of  a  young  apple-flower, 
while  I  watched  and  said  nothing.  I  know  not  to 
this  day  whether  she  were  thinking  of  the  apple- 
flower  or  wondering  at  the  dumbnes  sof  her  cava- 
lier ;  but  she  feigned,  at  least,  to  concern  herself 
with  only  the  blossom's  heart.  Her  wide  white 
lids  downcast  over  her  great  eyes,  her  long 
lashes  almost  sweeping  the  rondure  of  her  cheek, 
she  looked  a  Madonna.  The  broad,  low  fore- 


8  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

head ;  the  finely  chiselled  nose,  not  too  small  for 
strength  of  purpose  ;  the  full,  firm  chin  —  all  added 
to  this  sweet  dignity,  which  was  of  a  kind  to 
compel  a  lover's  worship.  There  was  enough 
breadth  to  the  gracious  curve  below  the  ear  to 
make  me  feel  that  this  girl  would  be  a  strong 
man's  mate.  But  the  mouth,  a  bow  of  tenderness, 
with  a  wilful  dimple  at  either  delectable  corner 
always  lurking,  spoke  her  all  woman,  too  laughing 
and  loving  to  spend  her  days  in  sainthood.  Her 
hair  —  very  thick  and  of  a  purply-bronze,  near  to 
black  —  lay  in  a  careless  fulness  over  her  little 
ears.  On  her  head,  though  in  all  else  she  affected 
the  dress  of  the  Grand  Pre  maids,  she  wore  not 
the  Acadian  linen  cap,  but  a  fine  shawl  of  black 
Spanish  lace,  which  became  her  mightily.  Her 
bodice  was  of  linen  homespun,  coarse,  but  bleached 
to  a  creamy  whiteness ;  and  her  skirt,  of  the  same 
simple  stuff,  was  short  after  the  Acadian  fashion, 
so  that  I  could  see  her  slim  ankles,  and  feet  of 
that  exceeding  smallness  and  daintiness  which 
may  somehow  tread  right  heavily  upon  a  man's 
heart. 

The  other  vision  cherished  in  my  memory  was 
different  from  this,  and  even  more  enchanting.  It 
was  a  vision  of  one  look  cast  upon  me  as  I  left 
the  door  of  her  father's  house.  In  the  radiance  of 
her  great  eyes,  turned  full  upon  me,  all  else 
became  indistinct,  her  other  features  blurred,  as  it 


Paul  Grande's  Home-coming  9 

were,  with  the  sudden  light  of  that  look,  which 
meant  —  I  knew  not  what.  Indeed,  it  was  ever 
difficult  to  observe  minutely  the  other  beauties  of 
her  face  as  long  as  the  eyes  were  turned  upon  one, 
so  clear  an  illumination  from  her  spirit  shone 
within  their  lucid  deeps.  Hence  it  was,  I  suppose, 
that  few  could  agree  as  to  the  colour  of  those  eyes 
—  the  many  calling  them  black,  others  declaring 
with  confidence  that  they  were  brown,  while  some 
even,  who  must  have  angered  her,  averred  them 
to  be  of  a  very  cold  dark  grey.  I,  for  my  part, 
knew  that  they  were  of  a  greenish  hazel  of  in- 
describable depth,  with  sometimes  amber  lights  in 
them,  and  sometimes  purple  shadows  very  mys- 
terious and  unfathomable. 

As  I  sat  now  looking  down  into  the  village  I 
wondered  if  Yvonne  would  have  a  welcome  for  me. 
As  I  remembered,  she  had  ever  shown  goodwill 
toward  me,  so  far  as  consisted  with  maidenly  re- 
serve. She  had  seemed  ever  ready  for  tales  of  my 
adventure,  and  even  for  my  verses.  As  I  thought 
of  it  there  dawned  now  upon  my  heart  a  glimmer- 
ing hope  that  there  had  been  in  that  last  unforgot- 
ten  look  of  hers  more  warmth  of  meaning  than 
maid  Yvonne  had  been  willing  to  confess. 

This  thought  went  to  my  heart  and  I  sprang  up 
in  a  kind  of  sudden  intoxication,  to  go  straight- 
way down  into  the  village.  As  I  did  so  I  caught 
the  flutter  of  a  white  frock  among  the  trees  of  the 


io  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

De  Lamourie  orchard.  Thereupon  my  breath  came 
with  a  quickness  that  was  troublesome,  and  to 
quiet  it  I  paused,  looking  out  across  the  marshes 
and  the  tide  toward  Blomidon.  Then  for  the  first 
time  I  observed  a  great  bank  of  cloud  that  had 
arisen  behind  the  Cape.  It  was  black  and  men- 
acing, ragged  and  fiery  along  its  advancing  crest. 
Its  shadow  lay  already  upon  the  marshes  and  the 
tide.  It  crept  smoothly  upon  the  village.  And 
at  this  moment,  from  the  skirts  of  a  maple  grove 
on  the  summit  of  the  hill  behind  me,  came  a  great 
and  bell-like  voice,  crying : 

"  Woe,  woe  to  Acadie  the  Fair,  for  the  hour  of 
her  desolation  cometh !  " 


Chapter    II 
Grul's  Warning 

"r~T*HESE  ten  years,"  I  exclaimed  to  myself 
JL  angrily  (for  I  love  not  to  have  a  dream 
rudely  broken),  "  has  Grul  been  prophesying  woe  ; 
and  I  see  not  that  aught  comes  of  it  save  greater 
strength  to  his  lungs." 

I  turned  my  back  upon  the  valley  and  watched 
the  singular  figure  that  drew  near.  It  was  a  shrewd 
and  mysterious  madman  whom  all  Acadie  had 
known  for  the  past  ten  years  as  "  Grul."  Whether 
that  was  his  real  name  or  a  pseudonym  of  his  own 
adoption  no  one  knew.  Whence  he  had  come  no 
one  knew.  Wherefore  he  stayed  in  Acadie,  and 
so  faithfully  prophesied  evil  to  our  fair  land,  no 
one  knew.  The  reason  of  his  madness  —  and  the 
method  which  sometimes  seemed  to  lurk  beneath 
it  —  no  one  could  confidently  guess.  At  least, 
such  ignorance  in  regard  to  this  fantastic  fool 
seemed  general  throughout  the  country.  But 
there  lay  here  and  there  a  suspicion  that  the  Black 
Abbe,  the  indomitable  La  Game,  Bigot's  tool  and 

ii 


12  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  people's  dread,  knew  more  of  Grul's  madness 
than  other  folk  might  dream.  It  was  whispered 
that  La  Game,  who  seemingly  feared  no  man 
else,  feared  Grul.  It  was  certain  that  whenever 
any  scheme  of  the  Black  Abbe's  came  to  naught 
Grul's  hand  would  appear  somewhere  in  the  wreck 
of  it. 

Now,  as  he  came  down  from  the  maple  grove,  he 
looked  and  was  dressed  just  as  I  had  seen  him 
years  before.  The  vicissitudes  of  time  and  of  the 
weather  seemed  to  have  as  little  effect  upon  the 
staring  black  and  yellow  of  his  woollen  cloak  as 
upon  his  iron  frame,  his  piercing  light-blue  eyes, 
the  snowy  tangle  of  his  hair  and  beard.  Only 
his  pointed  cap  betrayed  that  its  wearer  dwelt 
not  altogether  beyond  the  pale  of  mutability.  Its 
adornments  seemed  to  recognize  the  seasons.  I 
had  seen  it  stuck  with  cornflowers  in  the  summer, 
with  golden-rod  and  asters  in  the  autumn,  with 
feathers  and  strange  wisps  of  straw  in  winter ;  and 
now  it  bore  a  spray  of  apple-blossom,  with  some 
dandelions,  those  northern  sun-worshippers,  whose 
closing  petals  now  declared  that  even  in  death 
they  took  note  of  the  passing  of  their  lord. 

In  his  hand  Grul  carried  the  same  quaint  wand 
of  white  wood,  with  its  grotesque  carven  head 
dyed  scarlet,  which  had  caught  my  eye  with  an 
uneasy  fascination  the  first  time  I  met  its  pos- 
sessor. That  little  stick,  which  Grul  wielded  with 


Gnil's  Warning  13 

authority  as  if  it  were  a  sceptre,  still  caused  me 
some  superstitious  qualms.  I  remembered  how  at 
my  first  sight  of  it  I  had  looked  to  see  a  living 
spark  leap  from  that  scarlet  head. 

"  It  has  been  a  long  time  coming,"  said  I,  as 
Grul  paused  before  me,  searching  my  face  curi- 
ously with  his  gleaming  eyes.  "  And  meanwhile 
I  have  come.  I  think,  monsieur,  I  should  esteem 
a  welcome  somewhat  more  cordial  than  your  words 
of  dolorous  omen." 

Whether  he  were  displeased  or  not  at  my  for- 
wardness in  addressing  him  I  cannot  tell.  He 
was  without  doubt  accustomed  to  choose  his  own 
time  for  speech.  His  eyes  danced  with  a  shifting, 
sharp  light,  and  after  thrusting  his  little  wand  at 
me  till,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  felt  the  easy  smile 
upon  my  lips  grow  something  mechanical,  he  said 
with  withering  slowness : 

"  To  the  boy  and  the  fool  how  small  a  handful 
of  years  may  seem  a  lifetime !  You  think  it  is 
long  coming?  It  is  even  now  come.  The  shadow 
of  the  smoke  of  her  burning  even  now  lies  upon 
Acadie.  The  ships  of  her  exile  are  near." 

He  stopped ;  and  I  had  no  word  of  mocking 
wherewith  to  answer  him.  Then  his  eyes  and  his 
voice  softened  a  little,  and  he  continued : 

"  And  you  have  come  back  —  poor  boy,  poor 
fool !  —  with  joy  in  your  heart ;  and  your  joy  even 
now  is  crumbling  to  ashes  in  your  mouth." 


14  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

He  turned  away,  leaving  me  still  speechless ; 
but  in  an  instant  he  was  back  and  his  wand  thrust 
at  me  with  a  suddenness  that  made  me  recoil  in 
childish  apprehension.  In  a  voice  indescribably 
dry  and  biting  he  cried  swiftly : 

"  But  look  you,  boy.  Whether  she  be  yours  or 
another's,  there  is  an  evil  hand  uplifted  against  her 
this  night.  See  you  to  it !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  I  cried,  my  heart  sink- 
ing with  a  sudden  fear.  "  Nay,  you  shall  tell 
me  !  "  I  went  on  fiercely,  making  as  if  to  restrain 
him  by  force  as  he  turned  away.  But  he  bent 
upon  me  one  look  of  such  scorn  that  I  felt  at  once 
convicted  of  folly;  and  striding  off,  with  some- 
thing of  a  dignity  in  his  carriage  which  all  his 
grotesquerie  of  garb  could  not  conceal,  he  left  me 
to  chew  upon  his  words.  As  for  the  warning,  that 
was  surely  plain  enough.  I  was  to  go  to  Yvonne, 
and  be  by  her  in  case  of  any  need.  The  business 
thus  laid  upon  me  was  altogether  to  my  liking. 
But  that  pitying  word  —  of  joy  that  should  turn  to 
ashes  in  my  mouth  !  It  filled  me  with  black  fore- 
boding. As  I  stepped  down  briskly  toward  Grand 
Pre  my  joy  was  already  dead,  withered  at  a  mad- 
man's whisper.  And  that  great-growing  cloud 
from  over  Blomidon  had  swallowed  up  all  the 
village  in  a  chill  shadow. 


Chapter  III 
Charms  and  Counter-charms 

NEVER  may  I  forget  that  walking  down  from 
the  Gaspereau  Ridge  to  Grand  Pre  village. 
The  very  air  seemed  charged  with  mystery.  Every 
sight  and  every  sound  bore  the  significance  of  an 
omen,  to  which  I  lacked  interpreter.  The  roofs 
of  the  village  itself,  and  the  marshes,  the  sea,  and 
the  far-off  bulk  of  Blomidon,  appeared  like  the 
tissue  of  a  dream,  ready  to  vanish  upon  a  turn  of 
thought,  and  leave  behind  I  knew  not  what  of 
terrible  reality. 

I  am  not  by  nature  superstitious  at  all  beyond 
the  point  of  convenience.  Such  superstitions  as 
please  me  I  have  ever  been  wont  to  cherish  for  the 
interest  to  be  had  out  of  them.  I  have  often  been 
strengthened  in  a  doubtful  intention  by  omens  that 
looked  my  way,  and  auspicious  signs  have  many  a 
time  cheered  me  astonishingly  when  affairs  have 
seemed  to  be  going  ill.  But  the  most  menacing 
of  omens  have  ever  had  small  weight  when  oppos- 
ing themselves  to  my  set  purpose.  When  a  super- 


1 6  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

stition  is  on  my  side  I  show  it  much  civility: 
when  it  is  against  me  it  seems  of  small  account. 

But  that  night  I  was  more  superstitious  than 
usual.  Of  the  new  moon,  a  pallid  bow  just  sink- 
ing, I  caught  first  sight  over  my  left  shoulder, 
and  I  felt  vaguely  troubled  thereat.  One  crow, 
croaking  from  a  willow  stump  upon  my  right 
hand,  got  up  heavily  and  flew  across  my  path. 
I  misliked  the  omen,  and  felt  straightway  well 
assured  of  some  approaching  rebuff.  When,  a 
few  moments  later,  two  crows  upon  my  left  hand 
flew  over  to  my  right  I  was  not  greatly  comforted, 
for  they  were  far  ahead  and  I  was  forced  to  con- 
clude that  the  felicity  which  they  prophesied  was 
remote. 

Thus  it  came  that  presently  I  was  in  a  waking 
and  walking  dream,  not  knowing  well  the  sub- 
stance from  the  shadow.  Yet  my  senses  did  so 
continue  to  serve  me  that  I  went  not  down  into  the 
village,  where  I  knew  I  should  find  many  a  hand- 
clasp, but  followed  discreetly  along  the  back  of 
the  orchards,  that  I  might  reach  the  De  Lamourie 
place  as  swiftly  as  possible. 

By  this  hour  a  sweet-smelling  mist,  such  as,  I 
think,  falls  nowhere  else  as  it  does  in  the  Acadian 
fields,  lay  heavy  on  the  grasses.  I  bethought  me 
that  it  was  the  dew  of  the  new  moon,  and  therefore 
endowed  with  many  virtues ;  and  I  persuaded  my- 
self to  believe  that  my  feet,  which  were  by  now 


Charms  and  Counter-charms  17 

well  drenched  with  it,  must  needs  be  set  upon  a 
fortunate  errand. 

As  I  came  to  this  comforting  conclusion  I 
reached  a  little  thicket  at  an  orchard  corner,  where 
grew  a  deep  tangle  of  early  flowering  herbs.  There, 
gathering  the  wet  and  perfumed  blooms,  stooped 
an  old  woman  with  a  red  shawl  wrapped  over 
her  head  and  shoulders.  She  straightened  herself 
briskly  as  I  came  beside  her,  and  I  saw  the  hag- 
gard, high-boned,  hawk-nosed  face  of  old  Mother 
Pe'che,  whose  tales  of  wizardry  I  had  often  listened 
to  in  the  years  long  gone  by.  She  turned  upon 
me  her  strange  eyes,  black  points  of  piercing  intel- 
ligence encircled  by  a  startling  glitter  of  wide  white, 
and  at  once  she  stretched  out  to  me  a  crooked 
hand  of  greeting. 

"  It  is  good  for  these  old  eyes,  Master  Paul,  to 
see  thee  back  in  the  village !  "  she  exclaimed. 

Now,  any  one  will  tell  you  that  it  is  not  well  to 
be  crossed  in  one's  path  by  an  old  woman,  when  on 
an  errand  of  moment.  I  hurried  past,  therefore ; 
and  it  shames  me  to  say  it.  But  then,  remembering 
that  one  had  better  defy  any  omen  than  leave  a 
kindness  undone,  I  stopped,  turned  back,  and 
hastily  grasped  the  old  dame's  wizened  hand, 
slipping  into  it  a  silver  piece  as  I  did  so. 

It  was  a  broad  piece,  and  full  as  much  as  I 
could  wisely  spare ;  but  an  old  woman  or  a  small 
boy  is  ever  welcome  to  share  my  last  penny.  Her 


i8  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

strange  eyes  gleamed  for  a  moment,  but  as  she 
looked  up  to  bless  me  her  face  changed.  After 
gazing  earnestly  into  my  eyes  she  muttered  some- 
thing which  I  could  not  catch,  and  to  my  huge 
amazement  flung  the  silver  behind  her  with  a 
violence  which  left  no  doubt  of  her  intentions. 
She  flung  it  toward  a  little  swampy  pool ;  but  as 
luck  would  have  it  the  coin  struck  a  willow  sapling 
by  the  pool's  edge,  bounded  back,  and  fell  with  a 
clink  upon  a  flat  stone,  where  I  marked  it  as  it  lay 
whitely  glittering. 

I  was  too  amazed  to  protest  for  a  moment,  but 
the  old  woman  hastened  to  appease  me. 

"  There  was  sorrow  on  it,  dearie,  — thy  sorrow," 
she  exclaimed  coaxingly ;  "  and  I  wouldn't  have  it. 
The  devil  take  all  thy  bad  luck,  and  Mary  give 
thee  new  fortune  !  " 

To  me  it  seemed  that  throwing  away  the  silver 
piece  was  taking  superstition  quite  too  seriously. 
I  laughed  and  said : 

"  But,  mother,  if  there  be  bad  luck  ahead  of  me, 
so  much  the  more  do  I  want  your  blessing,  and 
truly  I  cannot  spare  you  another  silver  crown. 
Faith,  this  one's  not  gone  yet,  after  all !  "  And 
picking  it  up  I  handed  it  back  to  her.  •"  Let  the 
devil  fly  away  with  my  ill  luck,  if  he  may,  but 
don't  let  him  fly  away  with  your  little  savings,"  I 
added. 

The  old  dame  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and 


Charms  and  Counter-charms          19 

then  with  a  sigh  of  resignation,  as  who  should  say, 
"  The  gifts  of  destiny  are  not  to  be  thrust  aside," 
slipped  the  silver  into  some  deep-hidden  pocket. 
But  her  loving  concern  for  my  prosperity  was  not 
to  be  balked.  After  a  little  fumbling  she  brought 
out  a  small  pebble,  which  she  gave  me  with  an  air 
that  showed  it  to  be,  in  her  eyes,  some  very  great 
thing. 

I  took  it  with  an  answering  concern,  looked  at  it 
very  closely,  and  turned  it  over  in  my  hand,  wait- 
ing for  some  clue  to  its  significance  before  I 
should  begin  to  thank  her  for  the  gift,  if  gift  it 
were.  The  stone  was  assuredly  beautiful,  about 
the  size  of  a  hazel-nut,  and  of  a  clouded,  watery 
green  in  color,  but  the  curious  quality  of  it  was  that 
as  you  held  it  up  a  moving  loop  of  light  seemed 
to  gather  at  its  heart,  taking  somewhat  the  sem- 
blance of  a  palely  luminous  eye.  My  interest 
deepened  at  once,  and  I  bethought  me  of  a  stone 
of  rarity  and  price  which  was  sometimes  to  be 
found  under  Blomidon.  It  went  by  the  name  of 
"  Le  Veilleur,"  or  "  The  Watcher,"  among  our 
Acadian  peasants ;  but  the  Indians  called  it  "  The 
Eye  of  Manitou,"  and  many  mystic  virtues  were 
ascribed  to  it. 

"  Why,  mother,"  I  said  presently,  "  this  is  a 
thing  of  great  price !  I  cannot  take  it.  'Tis  a 
'Watcher,'  is  it  not?  "  And  I  gazed  intently  into 
its  elusive  loop  of  light. 


2O  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  I  have  another,"  she  answered  eagerly,  thrust- 
ing her  hands  under  her  red  cloak  as  if  to  prevent 
me  giving  back  the  stone.  "  That  is  for  thee,  and 
thou'lt  need  it,  ch'eri  Master  Paul." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  staring  at  the  beautiful  jewel 
with  a  growing  affection,  "  I  will  take  it  with  much 
thanks,  mother,  but  I  must  pay  you  what  it  is 
worth ;  and  that  I  will  find  out  in  Quebec,  from 
one  who  knows  the  worth  of  jewels." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  pay  me,  Master  Paul,"  said  the 
old  dame,  with  a  distinct  note  of  resentment  in  her 
voice.  "  It  is  my  gift  to  thee,  because  I  have 
loved  thee  since  thou  wert  a  little  lad ;  and  because 
thou'lt  need  the  stone.  Promise  me  thou'lt  wear  it 
always  about  thee ;"  and  plucking  it  from  my  hand 
with  a  swift  insinuation  of  her  long  fingers  she  slipped 
it  into  a  tiny  pouch  of  dressed  deerskin  and  pro- 
ceeded to  affix  a  leathern  thong  whereby  I  might, 
as  I  inferred,  hang  the  talisman  about  my  neck. 

"  While  this  you  wear,"  she  went  on  in  a  low, 
singing  voice,  "  what  most  you  fear  will  never  come 
to  pass." 

"  But  I  am  not  greatly  given  to  fear,  mother," 
said  I,  with  a  little  vainglorious  laugh. 

"  Then  thou  hast  not  known  love,"  she  retorted 
sharply. 

At  these  words  the  fear  of  which  she  had  spoken 
came  about  me  —  vague,  formless,  terrible,  and  I 
trembled. 


Charms  and  Counter-charms          21 

"  Give  it  to  me  !  "  I  cried  in  haste.  "  Give  it  to 
me  !  I  will  repay  you,  mother,  with  "  —  and  here 
I  laughed  again  —  "  with  love,  which  you  say  I 
have  never  known." 

"  That  kind  of  love,  Master  Paul,  thou  hast 
known  since  thou  wert  a  very  little  lad.  Thou'st 
given  it  freely,  out  of  a  kind  heart.  But,  dearie, 
thou  hast  but  played  at  the  great  love  —  or  more 
would'st  thou  know  of  fear."  And  the  old  woman 
looked  at  me  with  shrewd  question  in  her  startling 
eyes. 

But  I  did  know  fear  —  and  I  knew  that  I  knew 
love.  My  face  turned  anxiously  toward  De  La- 
mourie's,  and  I  grudged  every  instant  of  further 
delay. 

"  Good-by,  mother,  and  the  saints  keep  you  !  " 
I  cried  hastily,  swinging  off  through  the  wet  grass. 
But  the  old  dame  called  after  me  gently : 

"Stop  a  minute,  Master  Paul.  She' will  be  at 
her  supper  by  now;  an'  in  a  little  she'll  be  walk- 
ing in  the  garden  path." 

I  stopped,  filled  with  wonder,  and  my  veins 
leaping  in  wild  confusion  at  the  sound  of  that 
little  word  "  she."  It  was  as  if  the  old  woman 
had  shouted  "  Yvonne "  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

"  What  is  it?  "  I  stammered. 

"  I  want  to  look  at  thy  hand,  dearie,"  she  said, 
grasping  it  and  turning  it  so  as  to  catch  the  last 
of  the  fading  light. 


22  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Your  heart's  desire  is  nigh  your  death  of 
hope,"  said  she  presently,  speaking  like  an  oracle. 
Then  she  dropped  my  hand  with  a  little  dry 
chuckle,  and  turned  away  to  her  gathering  of 
herbs  as  if  I  were  of  no  further  account. 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

But  she  would  not  answer  me.  I  scorned  to 
appear  too  deeply  concerned  in  such  old  woman's 
foolery ;  so  I  asked  no  more,  but  went  my  way, 
carrying  the  word  in  my  heart  with  a  strange  com- 
fort —  which,  had  I  but  known  it,  was  right  soon 
to  turn  into  despair. 


Chapter    IV 
"Habet!" 

I  CAME  upon  the  DeLamourie  farmhouse  by  the 
rear  of  the  orchard ;  and  down  through  the 
low,  blossoming  arches,  now  humming  with  night 
moths  and  honey  beetles,  I  hastened  toward  the 
front  door.  Before  I  reached  it  there  arose  an 
angry  barking  from  the  yard,  and  a  huge  black 
dog,  objecting  to  the  manner  of  my  approach, 
came  charging  upon  me  with  appearance  of  malign 
intent. 

I  was  vexed  at  the  notion  of  a  possible  en- 
counter, for  I  would  not  use  my  sword  or  my 
pistols  on  the  guardian  of  my  friend's  domain  ;  yet 
I  had  small  desire  that  the  brute  should  tear  my 
clothes.  I  cursed  my  folly  in  not  carrying  a  stick 
wherewith  to  beat  off  such  commonplace  assail- 
ants. But  there  was  nothing  for  it  save  indiffer- 
ence, so  I  paid  no  attention  to  the  dog  until  he 
was  almost  upon  me.  Then  I  turned  my  head  and 
said  sharply,  "  Down,  sir,  down  !  " 

To  all  domestic  animals  the  voice  of  authority 
23 


24  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

is  the  voice  of  right.  I  had  forgotten  that  for  the 
moment.  The  dog  stopped,  and  stood  growling 
doubtfully.  He  could  not  muster  up  resolution  to 
attack  one  who  spoke  with  such  an  assurance  of 
privilege.  Yet  what  could  justify  my  highly  irreg- 
ular approach?  He  would  await  developments. 
In  a  casual,  friendly  manner,  as  I  walked  on,  I 
stretched  out  the  back  of  my  hand  to  him,  as  if  to 
signify  that  he  might  lick  it  if  he  would  ;  but  this 
he  was  by  no  means  ready  for,  so  he  kept  his  dis  • 
tance  obstinately. 

In  another  moment  there  appeared  at  the  head 
of  the  path  a  white,  slight  figure,  with  something 
black  about  the  head  and  shoulders.  It  was 
Yvonne,  come  out  to  see  the  cause  of  the  loud 
disturbance. 

"  It  is  I,  mademoiselle,"  I  exclaimed  in  an  eager 
voice,  hastening  to  meet  her,  —  "  Paul  Grande, 
back  from  the  West." 

A  slight  gasping  cry  escaped  her,  and  she 
paused  irresolutely.  It  was  but  for  the  least  part 
of  an  instant;  yet  my  memory  took  note  of  it 
afterward,  though  it  passed  me  unobserved  at  the 
time.  Then  she  came  to  meet  me  with  out- 
stretched hands  of  welcome.  Both  little  hands  I 
crushed  together  passionately  in  my  grasp,  and 
would  have  dropped  on  my  knees  to  kiss  them 
but  for  two  hindrances  :  Firstly,  her  father  ap- 
peared at  the  moment  close  behind  her  —  and 


"  Habet !  "  25 

things  which  are  but  natural  in  privacy  are  like  to 
seem  theatrical  when  critically  observed.  Further, 
finding  perhaps  a  too  frank  eloquence  in  my  de- 
meanor, Yvonne  had  swiftly  but  firmly  extricated 
her  hands  from  their  captivity.  She  had  said 
nothing  but  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  after  so 
long  a  time,  monsieur;"  and  this  so  quietly  that 
I  knew  not  whether  it  was  indifference  spoke, 
or  emotion. 

But  the  welcome  of  Giles  de  Lamourie  was  right 
ardent  for  one  of  his  courteous  reserve.  There 
was  an  affection  in  his  voice  that  warmed  my 
spirit  strangely,  the  more  that  I  had  never  sus- 
pected it;  and  he  kissed  me  on  both  cheeks  as  if 
I  had  been  his  own  son  —  "  as,"  said  the  up-leap- 
ing heart  within  me,  "  I  do  most  resolutely  set 
myself  to  be  !  " 

"  And  to  what  good  chance  do  we  owe  it,  Paul, 
that  we  see  you  here  at  Grand  Pre,  at  a  time  when 
the  swords  of  New  France  are  everywhere  busy?  " 
he  asked. 

"  To  a  brief  season  of  idleness  in  two  years  of 
ceaseless  action,"  I  replied,  "  and  to  a  desire  that 
would  not  be  denied."  I  sought  furtively  to  catch 
Yvonne's  eyes ;  but  she  was  picking  an  apple- 
flower  to  pieces.  This  little  dainty  depredation 
of  her  fingers  pierced  me  with  remembrance. 

"  You  have  earned  your  idleness,  Paul,"  said  De 
Lamourie,  "  if  the  stories  we  hear  of  your  exploits 


26  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

be  the  half  of  them  true.  But  we  had  thought 
down  here  that  Quebec"  —  "  or  Trois  Pistoles," 
murmured  Yvonne  over  the  remnants  of  the  apple- 
flower —  "would  have  offered  metal  more  attrac- 
tive for  the  enrichment  of  your  holiday." 

I  flushed  hotly.  But  in  the  deepening  dusk  my 
confusion  passed  unseen.  What  gossip  had  come 
this  way?  What  magnifying  and  distortion  of  a 
very  little  affair,  so  soon  gone  by  and  so  lightly 
forgotten  ? 

"  The  swords  of  New  France  are  just  now 
sheathed  for  a  little,"  said  I,  with  some  reserve  in 
my  voice.  "  They  are  biding  the  call  to  new  and 
hotter  work,  or  I  should  not  be  free  for  even  this 
breathing-spell.  As  for  Quebec,"  —  for  I  would 
not  seem  to  have  heard  mademoiselle's  interrup- 
tion, —  "  for  years  there  has  been  but  one  place 
where  I  desired  to  be,  and  that  is  here ;  so  I  have 
come,  but  it  is  not  for  long.  Great  schemes  are 
afoot." 

"  For  long  or  for  little,  my  boy,"  said  he,  drop- 
ping his  tone  of  banter,  "  your  home  here  must  be 
under  our  roof." 

Having  intended  staying,  as  of  old,  with  Father 
Fafard,  I  knew  not  for  a  moment  what  to  say.  I 
would  —  and  yet  a  voice  within  said  I  would  not. 
I  noted  that  Yvonne  spoke  no  word  in  support  of 
her  father's  invitation.  While  I  hesitated  we  had 
entered  the  house,  and  I  found  myself  bend- 


"Habet!"  27 

ing  over  the  wizened  little  hand  of  Madame  de 
Lamourie.  My  decision  was  postponed.  Had  I 
guessed  how  my  silence  would  by  and  by  be  mis- 
interpreted I  would  assuredly  have  decided  on  the 
spot,  whichever  way. 

"  It  is  not  only  for  the  breath  of  gayety  from 
Chateau  St.  Louis  which  you  bring  with  you,  my 
dear  Paul,  that  you  are  welcome,"  said  Madame, 
with  that  fine  air  of  affectionate  coquetry,  reminis- 
cent of  Versailles,  which  so  delightfully  became  her. 

I  kissed  her  hand  again.  We  had  always  been 
the  best  of  friends. 

"  But  let  me  present  to  you,"  she  went  on,  "  our 
good  friend,  who  must  also  be  yours :  Mr.  George 
Anderson;"  and  observing  for  the  first  time  a 
tall,  broad-shouldered,  ruddy  man,  who  stood  a 
little  to  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  I  bowed  to  him 
very  courteously.  Our  eyes  met.  I  felt  for  him 
a  prompt  friendliness,  and  as  if  moved  by  one  im- 
pulse we  clasped  hands. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  I,  being  then  in  cor- 
dial mood,  and  eager  to  love  one  loved  of  these 
my  friends. 

"  And  mine,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet,  grave  voice, 
"  if  it  please  you,  monsieur." 

"  Yet,"  I  laughed,  "  if  you  are  English,  Mon- 
sieur Anderson,  we  must  officially  be  enemies.  I 
trust  our  difference  may  be  in  all  love." 

"  Yes,"  said  Madame,  with  a  dry  little   biting 


28  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

accent  which  she  much  affected,  "  yes,  indeed,  in 
all  love,  my  dear  Paul.  Monsieur  Anderson  is 
English —  and  he  is  the  betrothed  husband  of  our 
Yvonne,"  she  added,  watching  me  keenly. 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  there  had  been  a  sudden 
roaring  noise  and  then  these  last  dreadful  words 
coming  coldly  upon  a  great  silence.  At  that 
moment  everything  stamped  itself  ineffaceably  on 
my  brain.  I  see  myself  grasp  the  back  of  a  chair, 
that  I  may  stand  with  the  more  irreproachable 
steadiness.  I  see  Madame's  curious  scrutiny.  I 
see  Yvonne's  eyes,  which  had  swiftly  sought  my 
face  as  the  words  were  spoken,  change  and  warm 
to  mine  for  the  least  fraction  of  a  second.  I  see 
all  this  now,  and  her  slim  form  unspeakably  graceful 
against  the  dark  wainscoting  of  the  chimney  side. 
Then  it  all  seemed  to  swim,  and  I  knew  that  it 
was  with  great  effort  of  will  I  steadied  myself; 
and  at  last  I  perceived  that  Yvonne  was  holding 
both  Anderson  and  her  father  in  rapt  attention  by 
a  sort  of  radiance  of  light  speech  and  dainty  gest- 
ure. I  dimly  came  to  understand  that  Yvonne 
had  seen  in  my  face  something  which  she  had  not 
looked  to  see  there,  and,  moved  to  compassion, 
had  come  to  my  aid  and  covered  up  my  hurt.  In 
a  moment  more  I  was  master  of  myself,  but  I 
knew  that  Madame's  eyes  had  never  left  me.  She 
liked  me -more  than  a  little;  but  a  certain  mirth- 
ful malice,  which  she  had  retained  from  the  old 


"  Habet !  "  29 

gay  days  in  France,  made  her  cruel    whensoever 
one  afforded  her  the  spectacle  of  a  tragedy. 

All  this  takes  long  in  the  telling;  but  it  was 
perhaps  not  above  a  minute  ere  I  was  able  to  per- 
ceive that  Mademoiselle's  diversion  had  been  upon 
the  theme  of  one's  duty  to  one's  enemies.  What 
she  had  said  I  knew  not,  nor  know  I  to  this  day ; 
but  I  will  wager  it  was  both  witty  and  wise.  I 
only  know  that  at  this  point  a  direct  appeal  was 
made  to  me. 

"  You,  monsieur,"  said  Anderson,  in  his  meas- 
ured tones,  "  will  surely  grant  that  it  is  always  virt- 
uous, and  often  possible,  to  love  one's  enemies." 

"  But  never  prudent !  "  interjected  De  Lamourie, 
whose  bitter  experiences  in  Paris  colored  his  con- 
clusions. 

"  Your  testimony,  monsieur,  as  that  of  one  who 
has  sent  so  many  of  them  to  Paradise,  is  much  to 
be  desired  upon  this  subject,"  exclaimed  Yvonne, 
in  a  tone  of  challenge,  at  the  same  time  flashing 
over  me  a  look  which  worked  upon  me  like  a 
wizard's  spell,  making  me  straightway  strong  and 
ready. 

"  Well  may  we  love  them  !  "  I  cried,  with  an  air 
of  sober  mockery.  "  Our  enemies  are  our  oppor- 
tunities ;  and  without  our  opportunities,  where  are 
we?" 

"  All  our  life  is  our  opportunity,  and  if  we  be 
brave  and  faithful  to  church  and  king  we  are 


30  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

made    great   by    it,"    exclaimed    a    harsh,  intense 
voice  behind  us. 

I  noted  a  look  of  something  like  consternation 
on  De  Lamourie's  face,  and  a  mocking  defiance  in 
the  eyes  of  Yvonne.  We  turned  about  hastily  to 
greet  the  new-comer.  I  knew  at  once,  by  hearsay, 
that  dark-robed  figure  —  the  high,  narrow,  ton- 
sured head  —  the  long  nose  with  its  aggressively 
bulbous  tip — the  thin  lips  with  their  crafty  smile 
—  the  dogged  and  indomitable  jaw.  It  was  La 
Game,  the  Black  Abbe,  master  of  the  Micmac 
tribes,  and  terror  of  the  English  in  Acadie.  He 
was  a  devoted  servant  to  the  flag  I  served,  the 
lilied  banner  of  France;  but  I  dreaded  and  de- 
tested him,  for  I  held  that  he  brought  dishonour  on 
the  French  cause,  as  well  as  on  his  priestly  office, 
by  his  devious  methods,  his  treacheries,  and  his 
cruelties.  War,  I  cannot  but  think,  becomes  a 
gross  and  hideous  thing  whensoever  it  is  suffered 
to  slip  out  of  the  control  of  gentlemen,  who  alone 
know  how  to  maintain  its  courtesies. 


Chapter    V 
The  Black  Abbe  Defers 

•"'  "\  7"OU  are  welcome,  father,"  began  Monsieur 
X  de  Lamourie,  advancing  to  meet  the  visi- 
tor, "  to  my  humble  "  —  But  the  harsh  voice  cut 
him  short. 

"  Lie  not  to  me,  Giles  de  Lamourie,"  said  the 
grim  priest,  extending  a  long  left  hand  as  if  in 
anathema.  "  Well  do  I  know  my  face  is  not  wel- 
come in  this  house  !  " 

De  Lamourie  drew  himself  up  haughtily,  and 
Madame  interrupted. 

"  Good  father,"  said  she  most  sweetly,  but  with 
an  edge  to  her  voice,  "  do  you  not  take  something 
the  advantage  of  your  gown?  Might  I  not  be  so 
bold  as  to  entreat  a  more  courteous  deliverance  of 
your  commands?" 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  forms  and  courtesies, 
woman?"  he  answered  — and  ignored  Yvonne's 
laughing  acquiescence  of  "What,  indeed,  mon- 
sieur? "  "  I  come  to  admonish  you  back  to  your 
duty;  and  to  warn  you,  if  you  heed  not.  I  learn 

31 


32  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

that  you  are  about  to  go  to  Halifax,  Giles  de  La- 
mourie,  and  there  forswear  France,  bowing  your 
neck  to  the  English  robber.  Is  this  true?" 

"  I  am  about  to  swear  allegiance  to  England, 
Father  La  Game,"  said  De  Lamourie  coldly. 

The  priest's  pale  eyes  narrowed. 

"  There  is  yet  time  to  change  your  mind,"  said 
he,  in  a  voice  grown  suddenly  smooth.  "  Give  me 
your  word  that  you  will  remain  faithful  to  France 
and  the  bolt  which  even  now  hangs  over  your 
recreant  head  shall  never  fall !  " 

I  looked  about  me  in  deep  astonishment. 
Yvonne's  face  was  splendid  in  its  impatient  scorn. 
Madame  looked  solicitous,  but  composed.  Ander- 
son smiled  coolly.  But  De  Lamourie  was  hot  with 
indignation. 

"  It  was  not  to  be  dictated  to  by  every  tonsured 
meddler  that  I  came  to  Acadie,"  he  cried,  rashly 
laying  himself  open. 

"  I  have  heard  as  much,"  said  the  priest  dryly. 
"  But  enough  of  this  talk,"  he  went  on,  his  voice 
again  vibrating.  "  You,  George  Anderson,  seducer 
of  these  people  from  their  king,  look  to  yourself! 
Your  threshold  is  red.  As  for  this  house  "  — and 
he  looked  around  with  slow  and  solemn  menace  — 
"  as  for  this  house,  it  shall  not  see  to-morrow's 
sun !  " 

Hitherto  I  had  been  silent,  as  became  a  mere 
new-come  guest;  but  this  was  too  much  for  me. 


The  Black  Abb£  Defers  33 

"Ay,  but  it  shall  !"  said  I  bluntly,  stepping 
forward. 

La  Game  looked  at  me  with  unaffected  surprise 
and  contempt. 

"  And  pray,  sir,  who  may  you  be  to  speak  so 
confidently  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  an  officer  of  the  king,  Sir  Abbe,"  I 
answered,  "  and  a  messenger  of  the  governor  of 
New  France,  and  a  man  of  my  word.  Your  quar- 
rel here  I  do  not  very  well  understand,  but  I  beg 
you  to  understand  that  this  house  is  the  house  of 
my  friends.  I  know  you,  Sir  Abbe,  —  I  have 
heard  rumour  of  your  work  at  Beaubassin,  Baie 
Verte,  and  Gros  He.  I  tell  you,  I  will  not  suffer 
you  to  lift  your  hand  against  this  house  ! " 

"  Truly,  monsieur,  you  speak  large,"  sneered 
the  priest.  "  But  you  may,  perchance,  have  au- 
thority. I  seem  to  have  seen  your  face  before. 
Your  name?" 

"  Paul  Grande,"  said  I,  bowing. 

La  Game's  face  changed.  He  looked  at  me 
curiously,  and  then,  with  a  sort  of  bitter  tolerance, 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  have  been  to  Monsieur  le  Commandant 
Vergor,  at  Beausejour?"  he  asked. 

I  bowedi 

"  And  to  Vaurin,  at  Piziquid  ? "  he  went  on 
thoughtfully. 

I  fancied  that  a  shade  of  suspicion  passed  over 


34  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  faces  of  my  hosts ;  and  Yvonne's  face  paled 
slightly ;  but  I  replied  : 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Piziquid." 

"  Your  authority  is  sufficient,  then,  monsieur," 
said  he.  "  The  messenger  of  the  governor  to 
Vaurin  doubtless  knows  his  business,  and  it  is 
unnecessary  for  me  to  interfere." 

I  bowed  my  thanks,  holding  courtesy  to  be  in 
place,  since  I  had  gained  my  point. 

"  And  I  pardon  your  abruptness,  Monsieur 
Grande,"  continued  the  Black  Abbe.  "We  are 
both  working  for  the  king.  We  have  no  right  to 
quarrel  when  we  have  such  great  work  to  do.  I 
am  sure  I  may  accept  your  apology  for  your 
abruptness?"  And  he  looked  at  me  with  an  air 
of  suggestion. 

I  was  puzzled  at  his  changed  demeanour,  but  I 
would  not  show  myself  at  a  loss.  Still  less  would 
I  apologize,  or  suffer  any  pretence  of  friendliness 
between  himself  and  me. 

"  I  am  sure  you  may,"  said  I  pleasantly.  And 
I  think  the  reply  a  prudent  one. 

Yvonne  smiled  —  I  just  caught  the  smile  ;  but 
the  abbe  turned  on  his  heel. 

"  I  withdraw  my  admonition,"  he  said  to  De 
Lamourie  smoothly,  "  and  leave  your  case  in  the 
hands  of  this  gentleman,  your  good  friend.  I 
wish  you  a  swift  conversion — or  a  long  repent- 
ance." And  with  a  glance  at  me  which  I  liked 


The  Black  Abb£  Defers  35 

not,   but    could    by  no    means    interpret,    he  was 
gone. 

The  room  grew  straightway  the  brighter  for  his 
going. 


Chapter  VI 
A  New  England  Englishman 

I  HAVE  said  that  the  room  grew  brighter  for 
the  going  of  the  Black  Abbe.  To  me,  at 
least,  it  seemed  so.  Yet,  after  his  departure, 
there  fell  a  palpable  air  of  constraint.  Monsieur 
de  Lamourie  regarded  me  with  something  almost 
like  suspicion.  Madame  eyed  me  with  a  curious 
scrutiny,  tolerant,  yet  as  it  were  watchful.  As  for 
Yvonne,  her  face  was  coldly  averted.  All  this 
troubled  me.  Only  the  New  Englander  came  to 
my  rescue. 

With  a  smile  of  frank  satisfaction  he  remarked  : 

"  You  dealt  very  effectively  and   expeditiously 

with  that  black-frocked  firebrand,  monsieur.     You 

must  have  great  influence  at  headquarters  to  be 

able  to  treat  La  Game  with  so  little  ceremony." 

Now,  puzzled  though  I  was,  I  was  marvellously 

elated   by   my   easy  victory    over   the    notorious 

Black  Abbe.     There  was  doubtless  a  vainglorious 

ring  in  the  would-be  modest  voice  with  which  I 

answered. 

36 


A  New  England  Englishman         37 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  did  not  expect  quite  so  swift 
a  triumph.  I  thought  I  might  even  be  driven  to 
threats  ill  fitting  the  dignity  of  his  office.  But 
doubtless  he  saw  that  I  was  rather  in  earnest." 

"  He  certainly  seemed  to  regard  you  as  one 
having  authority,"  said  De  Lamourie  gravely. 

"  Or  even,"  murmured  Madame,  with  that  dry- 
ness  in  her  voice,  "  as  in  some  way  his  confeder- 
ate." 

"  Or  Vaurin's,"  came  a  cold  suggestion  from 
Mademoiselle.  Her  eyes  were  gazing  steadily  into 
the  fire ;  but  I  caught  the  scornful  curl  of  her  lip. 

At  this  I  felt  myself  flush  hotly,  I  knew  not  just 
why.  It  seemed  as  if  I  lay  under  some  obscure 
but  disgraceful  imputation.  With  sudden  warmth 
I  cried : 

"  I  have  no  authority,  save  as  an  officer  of  the 
king,  with  a  clean  record  and  a  sword  not  un- 
proven.  I  have  no  confederate,  nor  am  I  like  to 
be  engaged  in  such  work  as  shall  make  one  need- 
ful. And  as  for  this  Vaurin,"  I  demanded, 
turning  to  Yvonne,  "who  is  he?  He  seems  a 
personage  indeed ;  yet  never  had  I  heard  of  him 
till  the  commandant  of  Beausejour  gave  me  a 
letter  for  his  hand." 

"  I  cannot  doubt  you,  monsieur,"  interposed 
Anderson  heartily.  "  This  Vaurin  is  a  very  sorry 
scoundrel,  a  spy  and  an  assassin,  who  does  the 
dirty  work  of  those  who  employ  him.  I  think  it 


38  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

was  ill  done  of  Vergor  to  give  to  any  gentleman  a 
commission  to  that  foul  cur." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  and  walked  thrice  up  and 
down  the  room,  while  all  sat  silent.  I  think  my 
anger  was  plain  enough  to  every  one,  for  the  old 
friendliness  —  as  I  afterwards  remembered  —  came 
back  to  the  faces  of  Monsieur  and  Madame  de 
Lamourie,  and  Yvonne's  eyes  shone  upon  me  for 
an  instant  with  a  wistfulness  which  I  could  not 
understand.  Yet  this,  as  I  said,  is  but  what  came 
back  to  me  afterwards.  I  felt  Yvonne's  eyes  but 
as  in  a  dream  at  that  moment. 

"  Vergor  shall  answer  to  me,"  I  cried  bitterly. 
"  It  is  ill  work  serving  under  the  public  thieves 
whom  the  intendant  puts  in  power  to-day.  One 
never  knows  what  baseness  may  not  be  demanded 
of  him.  Vergor  shall  clear  himself,  or  meet  me  !  " 

"  What  hope  is  there  for  your  cause,"  asked 
Anderson,  "  when  they  who  guide  New  France 
are  so  corrupt?  " 

"  They  are  not  all  corrupt !  "  I  declared  with 
vehemence.  "  The  governor  is  honest.  The  gen- 
eral is  honour  itself.  But,  alas,  the  most  grievous 
enemies  of  New  France  are  those  within  her  gate  ! 
Bigot  is  the  prince  of  robbers.  His  hands  and 
those  of  his  gang  are  at  her  throat.  It  is  he  we 
fear,  and  not  you  English,  brave  and  innumerable 
though  you  are." 

And  with  this  my  indignation  at  Vergor,  who,  it 


A  New  England  Englishman          39 

was  plain,  had  put  upon  me  an  errand  unbecoming 
to  a  gentleman  and  an  officer  of  the  king,  spread 
out  to  include  the  whole  corrupt  crew  of  which 
the  intendant  Bigot  was  the  too  efficient  captain. 
Seating  myself  again  by  the  hearth,  I  gave  bitter 
account  of  the  wrong  and  infamy  at  Quebec,  and 
showed  how,  to  the  anguish  of  her  faithful  sons, 
New  France  was  being  stripped  and  laid  bare  to 
the  enemy.  My  heart  being  as  dead  with  my 
own  sudden  sorrow,  the  story  which  I  told  of  my 
country's  plight  was  steeped  in  dark  forebodings. 

When  I  had  finished,  the  conversation  became 
general,  and  I  presently  withdrew  into  my  heavi- 
ness. I  remember  that  Madame  rallied  me,  at 
last,  on  my  silence  ;  but  Yvonne  came  quickly  and 
sweetly  to  my  help,  recalling  my  long  day's  jour- 
ney and  insisting  upon  my  drinking  a  cup  of  spiced 
brandy  —  "very  sound  and  good,"  she  declared, 
"  and  but  late  from  Louisburg,  no  thanks  to  King 
George !  " 

As  I  sat  sipping  of  the  fragrant  brew  —  though  it 
had  been  wormwood  it  had  seemed  to  me  delicate 
from  her  hand  —  I  tried  to  gather  together  the 
shattered  fragments  of  my  dream. 

There  she  sat  —  of  all  women  the  one  woman, 
as  I  had  in  the  long,  solitary  night-watches  come 
to  know,  whom  my  soul  needed  and  my  body 
needed.  My  inmost  thought,  speaking  with  itself 
in  nakedest  sincerity,  declared  that  it  was  she 


40  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

only  whom  God  had  made  for  me  —  or  for  whom 
God  had  made  me.  The  whole  truth,  as  I  felt  it, 
required  both  statements  to  perfect  its  expression. 
There  she  sat,  so  near  that  her  voice  was  making 
a  wonder  of  music  in  my  ears,  so  near  that  her 
eyes  from  time  to  time  flashed  a  palpable  radiance 
upon  my  face;  yet  further  away  than  when  I 
lightened  with  dreams  of  her  the  long  marches 
beside  the  Miami  or  lay  awake  to  think  of  her,  in 
the  remote  huts  of  the  Natchez.  So  far  away  had 
a  word,  a  brief  word,  put  her;  yet  here  she  sat 
where  I  could  grasp  her  just  by  stretching  out  my 
hand. 

As  I  thought  of  it  her  eyes  met  mine.  I  swear 
that  I  made  no  motion.  My  grasp  never  relaxed 
from  the  arm  of  the  black  old  chair  where  it  had 
fixed  itself.  Yet  the  thought  must  have  cried 
out  to  her,  for  a  look  of  alarm,  yet  not  wholly  of 
denial,  flickered  for  one  heart-beat  in  her  gaze. 
She  rose,  with  a  little  aimless  movement,  looked 
at  me,  swayed  her  body  toward  me  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, then  sat  down  again  in  her  old  place 
with  her  face  averted.  At  once  she  began  talk- 
ing with  a  whimsical  gayety  that  engrossed  all 
ears  and  left  me  again  in  my  gloom. 

I  scrutinized  this  man,  the  New  Englander,  who 
sat  drinking  her  with  his  eyes.  For  the  joy  that 
was  in  his  face  as  he  watched  her  I  cursed  him  — 
yet  ere  the  curse  had  gone  forth  I  blessed  him 


A  New  England  Englishman         41 

bitterly.  How  could  I  curse  him  when  I  saw  that 
his  soul  was  on  its  knees  to  her,  as  mine  was.  I 
felt  myself  moved  toward  him  in  a  strange  affec- 
tion. Yet  —  and  yet ! 

He  was  a  tall  man,  well  over  six  feet  in  height,  of 
a  goodly  breadth  of  shoulder,  —  taller  than  myself 
by  three  inches  at  least,  and  heavier  in  build.  He 
had  beauty,  too,  which  I  could  not  boast  of; 
though  before  love  taught  me  humility  I  had  been 
vain  enough  to  deem  my  face  not  all  ill-favored. 
His  abundant  light  hair,  slightly  waving ;  his  ruddy, 
somewhat  square  face,  with  its  good  chin  and  kind 
mouth ;  his  frank  and  cheerful  blue  eyes,  fearless 
but  not  aggressive ;  his  air  of  directness  and  good 
intention  —  all  compelled  my  tribute  of  admiration, 
and  made  me  think  little  of  my  own  sombre  and 
sallow  countenance,  with  its  straight  black  hair, 
straight  black  brows,  straight  black  moustache ; 
its  mouth  large  and  hard  set;  its  eyes  wherein 
mirth  and  moroseness  were  at  frequent  strife  for 
mastery.  Being,  as  I  have  reluctantly  confessed,  a 
vain  man  without  good  cause  for  vanity,  I  knew  the 
face  well  —  and  it  was  with  small  satisfaction  I  re- 
membered it  now,  while  looking  upon  the  manly 
fairness  of  George  Anderson. 

Yet,  such  is  the  inconsistency  of  men,  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  faint,  inexplicable  pity  for  him.  I  felt 
myself  stronger  than  he,  and  wiser  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  life.  But  he  had  the  promise  of  that 


42  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

which  to  me  was  more  than  life.  He  had,  as  I 
kept  telling  myself,  Yvonne's  love ;  yet  —  had 
he?  So  obstinate  is  hope,  I  would  not  yield  all 
credence  to  this  telling.  At  least  I  had  one  ad- 
vantage, if  no  other.  I  was  wiser  than  he  in  this, 
that  /  knew  my  love  for  Yvonne,  and  he  did  not 
know  it.  Yet  this  was  but  a  poor  vantage,  and 
even  upon  the  moment  I  had  resolved  to  throw  it 
away.  I  resolved  that  he  should  be  as  wise  as  I 
on  this  point,  if  telling  could  make  him  so. 


Chapter  VII 
Guard  ! 

I  HAD  just  arrived  at  this  significant  determi- 
nation when  I  was  roused  from  my  reverie  by 
Anderson  making  his  farewells.  He  was  holding 
out  his  hand  to  me. 

"  Your  face  is  stern,  monsieur,"  he  said.  "  Were 
you  fighting  your  old  battles  o'er  again?" 

"  No —  new  ones  !  "  I  laughed,  springing  up  and 
seizing  his  hand. 

"  May  you  win  them,  as  of  old  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
with  great  heartiness. 

"  You  are  generous,  monsieur,"  I  said  gently, 
looking  him  in  the  eyes. 

But  this  remark  he  took  as  quite  the  ordinary 
reply,  and  with  a  bright  glance  for  us  all  he  moved 
toward  the  door.  Yvonne  followed  him,  as  it 
seemed  was  expected  of  her. 

"Must  you  go  so  early?"  she  asked,  with  a 
kindness  in  her  voice  which  pierced  me. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  her  upturned 
face.  "  The  tide  is  just  right  now,  and  this  fair 

43 


44  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

wind  must  not  be  lost.  It  will  be  a  fine  run  under 
this  moon;  and  Pierre  has  the  new  boat  over 
to-night." 

"  It  is  a  good  night,"  she  assented,  peering 
through  the  open  door  with  a  gesture  of  gay 
inquiry;  "and  how  sweet  the  apple-blossoms 
smell !  Have  you  as  good  air  as  this,  Monsieur 
Grande,  on  those  western  rivers  of  yours,  or  at 
Trois  Pistoles?  " 

As  she  did  not  turn  her  head  or  seem  to  re- 
quire an  answer,  I  made  none.  And,  indeed,  I  was 
spared  the  necessity,  for  Anderson  intervened  with 
matter  of  his  own. 

"  Come  down  to  the  gate  with  me,  won't  you?  " 
I  heard  him  beg  in  a  low  voice. 

But  for  some  reason  Mademoiselle  was  not  dis- 
posed to  be  kind  that  night.  She  drew  back,  and 
looked  down  pointedly  at  her  dainty  embroidered 
moccasins. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  lightly  and  aloud,  with  a  tan- 
talizing ring  in  her  voice,  "just  think  how  wet 
the  path  is  !  " 

Anderson  turned  away  with  a  disappointed  air, 
whereupon  she  reached  out  her  hand  imperiously 
for  him  to  kiss.  Then  she  waved  him  a  gay  bon  voy- 
age, and  came  back  into  the  room  with  a  quick  light- 
ness of  step  which  seemed  like  laughter  in  itself. 
Her  eyes  were  a  dancing  marvel,  with  some  strange 
excitement. 


Guard !  45 

"  Monsieur,"  she  began,  coming  straight  toward 
me.  But  I  just  then  awoke  to  my  purpose. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  mademoiselle  and 
madame !  "  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet  and  hast- 
ening to  the  door.  "  I  will  be  back  in  two  mo- 
ments ;  but  I  have  a  word  for  Monsieur  Anderson 
before  he  goes." 

That  I  should  interrupt  her  in  this  way,  and  rush 
off  when  she  was  about  to  speak  to  me,  fetched  a 
sudden  little  cloud  of  astonishment  over  Yvonne's 
face.  But  I  would  not  be  delayed.  I  made  haste 
down  the  path  and  caught  Anderson  before  he 
reached  the  gate.  He  paused  with  an  air  of  genial 
surprise. 

"  Your  pardon,  monsieur,"  said  I ;  "  but  with 
your  permission  I  will  accompany  you  a  few  steps, 
as  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  your  company,  monsieur," 
said  he,  with  a  manner  that  spoke  sincerity. 

"Are. you?"  said  I  abruptly.  "Well,  somehow 
I  take  your  words  as  something  more  than  the 
thin  clink  of  compliment.  I  like  you  —  I  liked 
you  the  moment  my  eyes  fell  upon  you." 

His  face  flashed  into  a  rare  illumination,  and 
without  a  word  he  held  out  his  hand. 

I  could  not  but  smile  responsively,  though  I 
thrust  my  hand  behind  my  back  and  shook  my  head. 

"  Wait !  "  said  I.  "  I  want  to  say  to  you  that  —  I 
love  —  I  love  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie  !  " 


46  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

His  face  clouded  a  little,  and  he  withdrew  his 
hand,  but  not  angrily. 

"  We  are  very  much  of  one  mind  in  that,  I  assure 
you,"  he  said. 

"  The  very  ground  she  walks  upon  is  sacred  to 
me,"  I  continued. 

He  smiled  ever  so  little  at  the  passion  of  my 
speech,  but  answered  thoughtfully: 

"  It  is  but  natural,  I  suppose.  I  do  not  think 
we  will  quarrel  upon  that  score,  monsieur." 

"  For  two  years,"  said  I,  in  a  low  voice,  speaking 
coldly  and  evenly,  "  I  have  been  moved  night  and 
day  by  this  love  only.  It  has  supported  me  in 
hunger  and  in  weariness ;  it  has  led  me  in  the 
wilderness ;  it  has  strengthened  me  in  the  fight ; 
it  has  been  more  to  me  than  all  ambition.  Even 
my  love  of  my  country  has  been  second  to  it.  I 
came  here  to-day  for  one  reason  only.  And  I 
find  —  you  !  " 

"  None  can  know  so  well  as  I  what  you  have 
lost,  monsieur,"  said  he  very  gravely,  "  as  none 
can  know  so  well  as  I  what  I  have  gained." 

His  kindness,  no  less  than  his  confidence,  hurt 
me. 

"  Are  you  so  sure?  "  I  asked. 

"The  discussion  is  unusual,  monsieur,"  said  he, 
with  a  sudden  resentment.  "  I  will  only  remind 
you  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie  has  accepted 
my  suit." 


Guard !  47 

No  man's  sternness  has  ever  troubled  me,  and 
I  smiled  slightly  in  acknowledgment  of  his  very 
reasonable  remark. 

"  The  situation  is  unusual,  so  you  must  pardon 
me,"  said  I,  "  if  I  arrogate  to  myself  a  somewhat 
unusual  freedom.  I  tell  you  now  frankly  that  by 
all  open  and  honorable  means  I  will  strive  to  win 
the  love  of  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie.  I  have 
hope  that  she  has  not  yet  clearly  found  the  wisdom 
of  her  heart.  I  believe  that  I,  not  you,  am  the 
man  whom  she  will  love.  Laugh  at  my  vanity  as 
much  as  you  will.  I  am  not  yet  ready  to  say  my 
hope  is  dead,  my  life  turned  to  nothingness." 

"  You  are  weak,"  said  he,  with  some  severity, 
"  to  hold  your  life  thus,  as  it  were,  in  jeopardy  of  a 
woman's  whim." 

I  could  hardly  restrain  my  voice  from  betray- 
ing a  certain  triumph  which  I  felt  at  this  sign  of 
imperfection  in  his  love. 

"  If  you  hold  it  a  weakness,"  said  I,  "  there  is  a 
point  at  last  in  which  we  differ.  If  it  be  a  weak- 
ness, then  it  is  one  which,  up  to  two  years  ago,  I 
had  scarce  dared  hope  to  attain.  Few,  indeed,  are 
the  women,  and  as  few  men,  strong  enough  for  the 
full  knowledge  of  love." 

"  Yet  the  greatest  love  is  not  the  whole  of  life," 
he  averred  disputatiously. 

"  You  speak  but  coldly,"  said  I,  "  for  the  lover 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie." 


48  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

He  started.  I  had  stung  him.  "  I  am  of  the 
Society  of  Friends  —  a  Quaker !  "  said  he 
harshly.  "  I  do  not  fight.  I  lift  not  my  hand 
against  my  fellow-man.  Yet  did  I  believe  that 
you  would  succeed  in  winning  her  love,  I  think  I 
would  kill  you  where  you  stand !  " 

I  liked  the  sharp  lines  of  his  face  as  he  said  it, 
fronting  me  with  eyes  grown  suddenly  cruel.  I 
felt  that  he  meant  it,  for  the  moment  at  least. 

"  Say,  rather,"  said  I,  smiling,  "  that  you  would 
honestly  try  your  best  to  kill  me.  It  would  be  an 
interesting  experiment.  Well,  now  we  understand 
each  other.  /  will  honestly  try  my  best  to  do  you 
what  will  be,  in  my  eyes,  the  sorest  injury  in  the 
world.  But  I  will  try  by  fair  means  only,  and  if  I 
fail  I  will  bear  you  no  grudge.  In  all  else,  how- 
ever, believe  that  I  do  greatly  desire  your  welfare, 
and  will  seize  with  eagerness  any  occasion  of  doing 
you  a  service.  You  are  perhaps  less  unworthy 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie  than  I  am,  save 
that  you  cannot  love  her  so  well.  And  now"  I 
added  with  a  smile,  "  will  you  take  my  hand?  " 

As  I  held  .  it  out  to  him  he  at  first  drew  back 
and  seemed  disposed  to  repulse  me.  Then  his 
face  cleared. 

"  You  are  honest !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  wrung 
my  hand  with  great  cordiality.  "  I  rather  like 
you  —  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  you.  I  have  her 
promise." 


Guard !  49 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  also  you  have  her  love  you 
are  the  most  fortunate  man  on  God's  earth  !  " 

"  I  have  it !  "  said  he  blithely,  and  strode  off 
down  the  path  between  the  apple-trees,  his  fine 
shoulders  held  squarely,  and  a  confidence  in  all 
his  bearing.  But  a  wave  of  pity  for  him,  and 
strange  tenderness,  went  over  me  in  that  moment, 
for  in  that  moment  I  felt  an  assurance  that  I 
should  win. 

It  was  an  assurance  doomed  to  swift  ruin.  It 
was  an  assurance  destined  soon  to  be  hidden  under 
such  a  vast  wreckage  of  my  hopes  that  even  mem- 
ory marvelled  when  she  dragged  it  forth  to  light. 


Chapter   VIII 
The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough 

DURING  all  our  conversation  we  had  stood  in 
plain  view  of  the  windows,  so  that  our 
friendly  parting  must  have  been  visible  to  all  the 
house.  On  my  return  within  doors  I  found  Yvonne 
walking  up  and  down  in  a  graceful  impatience,  her 
black  lace  shawl  thrown  lightly  about  her  head. 

"  If  you  want  to,"  said  she,  "  you  may  come 
out  on  the  porch  with  me  for  a  little  while,  mon- 
sieur. I  want  you  to  talk  to  me." 

"  Yvonne,"  exclaimed  her  mother,  in  a  rebuking 
voice,  "  will  not  this  room  do  as  well  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  little  mamma,"  said  she  wilfully. 
"  Nothing  will  do  as  well  as  the  porch,  where  the 
moonlight  is,  and  the  smell  of  the  apple-blossoms. 
You  know,  dear,  Grand  Pre  is  not  Paris !  " 

"  Nor  yet  is  it  Quebec,"  said  I  pointedly. 

Monsieur  de  Lamourie  smiled.  Whatever 
Yvonne  would  was  in  his  eyes  good.  But  her 
mother  yielded  only  with  a  little  gesture  of 
protest. 

50 


The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough       51 

"  Yvonne  is  always  a  law  unto  herself,"  she 
murmured. 

"And  to  others,  I  judge,"  said  I,  following  the 
light  figure  out  upon  the  porch,  and  closing  the 
door  behind  me. 

I  praised  the  saints  for  the  freedom  of  Grand 
Pre.  At  Quebec  Mademoiselle  would  have  been 
the  most  formal  of  the  formalists,  because  in  Que- 
bec it  was  easy  to  be  misjudged. 

In  the  corner  of  the  porch,  where  a  huge  apple- 
bough  thrust  its  blossoms  in  beneath  the  roof,  was 
slung  a  stout  hammock  such  as  sailors  use  on  ship- 
board. Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie  had  seen  these 
during  a  voyage  down  the  Gulf  from  Quebec,  and 
had  so  fancied  them  that  her  father  had  been  im- 
pelled to  have  one  netted  for  her  by  the  shad- 
fishers.  It  was  her  favoured  lounging-place,  and 
thither  she  betook  herself  now  without  apology. 
In  silence  I  held  the  tricksy  netting  for  her.  In 
silence  I  placed  the  cushion  beneath  her  head. 
Then  she  said : 

"  You  may  sit  there,"  and  she  pointed,  with  a  little 
imperious  motion,  to  a  stout  bench  standing  against 
the  wall. 

I  accepted  the  seat,  but  not  its  location.  I 
brought  it  and  placed  it  as  close  as  I  dared  to  the 
hammock.  In  doing  so  I  clumsily  set  the  ham- 
mock swinging. 

"  Please  stop  it,"  said  Mademoiselle ;   and  as  I 


52  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

seated  myself  I  laid  my  hand  on  the  side  of  the 
hammock  to  arrest  its  motion.  My  fingers  found 
themselves  in  contact  with  other  fingers,  very  slim 
and  warm  and  soft.  My  breath  came  in  a  quick 
gasp,  and  I  drew  away  my  hand  in  a  strange  and 
overwhelming  perturbation.  The  hammock  was 
left  to  stop  of  itself  —  and,  indeed,  its  swinging 
was  but  slight.  As  for  me,  I  was  possessed  by  an 
infinite  amazement  to  find  myself  thus  put  to  con- 
fusion by  a  touch.  I  had  no  word  to  say,  but  sat 
gazing  dumbly  at  the  white  figure  in  the  moon- 
light. 

Her  face  was  very  pallid  in  that  colorless  light, 
and  her  eyes  greater  and  darker  than  ever,  deeps 
of  mystery,  —  and  now,  I  thought,  of  grave  mock- 
ery as  well.  She  watched  me  for  a  little  in  silence, 
and  then  said : 

"  I  let  you  come  out  here  to  talk  to  me,  mon- 
sieur !  " 

I  straightened  myself  upon  the  bench,  and  tried 
my  voice.  My  misgivings  were  justified.  It  trem- 
bled, beyond  a  doubt.  The  witch  had  me  at  a 
grave  disadvantage.  But  I  spoke  on  quietly. 

"  From  my  two  years  in  the  woods  of  the  West, 
mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "  I  brought  home  to  Grand 
Pre  certain  wonderful  dreams.  Of  these  I  find 
some  more  than  realized ;  but  one,  which  gave  all 
meaning  to  the  rest,  has  been  put  to  death  this 
night." 


"  I  ...  sat  gazing  dumbly  at  the  white  figure  in  the 
moonlight." 


The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough       53 

"  Even  in  Grand  Pre  dreams  are  no  new  thing," 
she  said  in  haste.  "  I  want  to  hear  of  deeds,  of 
brave  and  great  action.  Tell  me  what  you  have 
done — for  I  know  that  will  be  brave."  And  she 
smiled  at  me  such  kind  encouragement  that  my 
heart  began  thumping  with  vehemence.  However, 
I  made  shift  to  tell  her  a  little  of  my  wanderings  — 
of  a  bush  fight  here,  a  night  march  there,  of  the 
foiling  of  a  foe,  of  the  timely  succour  of  a  friend  — 
till  I  saw  that  I  was  pleasing  her.  Her  face  leaned 
a  little  toward  me.  Her  eyes  spoke,  dilating  and 
contracting.  Her  lips  were  slightly  parted  as  she 
listened.  And  into  every  adventure,  every  situa- 
tion, every  movement,  I  contrived  to  weave  a  sug- 
gestion of  her  influence,  of  the  thought  of  her 
guiding  and  upholding  me.  These  things,  touched 
lightly  and  at  once  let  pass,  she  did  not  rebuke. 
She  feigned  not  to  understand  them. 

At  last  I  paused  and  looked  at  her,  waiting  for 
a  word  of  praise  or  blame. 

"  And  your  poetry,  monsieur?  "  she  said  gently. 
"  Surely  that  was  not  all  the  time  forgotten.  This 
Acadian  land,  with  its  wonder  and  its  beauty,  has 
found  no  interpreter  but  you,  and  your  brave  work 
in  the  field  would  be  a  misfortune,  not  a  benefit,  if 
it  cost  us  your  song." 

"  The  loss  of  my  verses  were  no  great  loss," 
said  I. 

"  Indeed,  monsieur,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  I  do 


54  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

not  think  you  can  be  as  modest  as  you  pretend. 
But  I  am  sincere.  Since  we  have  known  your  song 
of  them,  I  think  that  mamma  and  I  have  watched 
only  through  your  eyes  the  great  sweep  of  the 
Minas  tides.  And  only  the  other  day  I  heard 
papa,  who  cares  for  no  poetry  but  his  old  '  Chan- 
sons de  Gestes,'  quoting  you  to  Father  Fafard  with 
evident  enthusiasm."  She  paused  —  but  I  said 
nothing.  I  had  talked  long ;  and  I  wished  her  to 
continue.  What  she  was  saying,  the  manner  of  her 
saying  it,  were  such  as  I  could  long  listen  to. 

"  As  for  me,"  she  went  on,  "  I  never  walk  down 
the  orchard  in  summer  time  without  saying  over 
to  myself  your  song  of  the  apple-leaves." 

"You  do,  really,  remember  my  verses?  "  said  I, 
flushing  with  surprise  and  joy.  I  was  not  used  to 
commendation  for  such  things,  my  verses  being 
wont  to  win  no  more  approval  than  they  merited, 
which  I  felt  to  be  very  little. 

She  laughed  softly,  and  began  to  quote : 

"  '  O  apple  leaves,  so  cool  and  green 

Against  the  summer  sky, 
You  stir,  although  the  wind  is  still 
And  not  a  bird  goes  by ! 

You  start, 
And  softly  move  apart 

In  hushed  expectancy. 
Who  is  the  gracious  visitor 
Whose  form  I  cannot  see? 


The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough       55 

"  'O  apple  leaves,  the  mystic  light 

All  down  your  dim  arcade  ! 
Why  do  your  shadows  tremble  so, 
Half  glad  and  half  afraid? 

The  air 
Is  an  unspoken  prayer; 

Your  eyes  look  all  one  way. 
Who  is  the  secret  visitor 

Your  tremors  would  betray?'  " 

It  was  a  slight  thing,  which  I  had  never  thought 
particularly  well  of;  but  on  her  lips  it  achieved  a 
music  unimagined  before. 

"  Your  voice,"  said  I,  "  makes  it  beautiful,  as  it 
makes  all  words  beautiful.  Yes,  I  have  written 
some  small  bits  of  verse  during  my  exile,  but  they 
have  been  different  from  those  of  mine  which  you 
honour  with  your  praise.  They  have  had  another, 
a  more  wonderful,  theme  —  a  theme  all  too  high 
for  them,  which  nevertheless  spurred  them  to  their 
best.  They  have  at  least  one  merit  —  they  speak 
the  truth  from  my  heart."  As  I  spoke  I  felt  my- 
self leaning  forward,  though  not  of  set  purpose, 
and  my  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper. 

"  One  of  them,"  I  continued,  begins  in  this  way : 

"  A  moonbeam  or  a  breath,  above  thine  eyes  I  bow, 

Silent,  unseen, 
But  not,  ah!  not  unknown  "  — 

"  Wait !  "  she  interrupted,  in  a  voice  that  sounded 
a  little  faint.  "  Wait !  I  want  to  hear  them  all, 


56  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

monsieur;  but  not  to-night.  You  shall  say  them 
to  me  to-morrow.  I  must  not  stay  to  listen  to 
them  to-night.  I  am  a  little  —  cold,  I  think ! 
Help  me  out,  please  !  "  And  she  rashly  gave  me 
her  hand. 

Now,  it  was  my  honest  intention  at  that  instant 
to  do  just  her  bidding  and  no  more ;  but  when  I 
touched  her  fingers  reason  and  judgment  flowed 
from  me.  I  bowed  my  head  over  them  to  the 
edge  of  the  hammock,  and  with  both  my  hands 
crushed  them  to  my  lips.  She  sank  back  upon 
her  cushion,  with  a  little  catching  of  her  breath. 

After  a  few  moments  I  raised  my  head  —  but 
with  no  speech  and  with  no  set  purpose  —  and 
looked  at  her  face.  It  was  very  grave,  and  curi- 
ously troubled,  but  I  detected  no  reproach  in  the 
great  eyes  that  met  mine.  A  fierce  impulse  seized 
me  to  gather  her  in  my  arms — but  I  durst  not, 
and  my  eyes  dropped  as  I  thought  of  it.  By 
chance  they  rested  upon  her  feet  —  upon  the  tiny, 
quill-worked,  beaded  white  moccasins,  demurely 
crossed,  the  one  over  the  other.  Her  skirt  was  so 
closely  gathered  about  her  ankles  that  just  an  inch 
or  two  of  one  arched  instep  was  visible  over  the 
edge  of  the  low-cut  moccasin.  Before  I  myself 
could  realize  what  I  was  about  to  do,  or  half  the 
boldness  of  the  act,  in  a  passion  that  was  all  wor- 
ship I  threw  myself  down  beside  her  feet  and 
kissed  them. 


The  Moon  in  the  Apple-bough       57 

It  was  for  an  instant  only  that  my  daring  so 
prevailed.  Then  she  suddenly  slipped  away.  In 
a  breathless  confusion  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and 
found  her  standing  erect  at  the  other  side  of  the 
hammock.  Her  eyes  blazed  upon  me ;  but  one 
small  hand  was  at  her  throat,  as  if  she  found  it 
hard  to  speak. 

"  How  could  you  dare  ?  "  she  panted.  "  What 
right  did  I  give  you  ?  What  right  did  I  ever  give 
you?" 

I  leaned  against  the  pillar  that  supported  one 
end  of  the  hammock. 

"  Forgive  me !  I  could  not  help  it.  I  have 
loved  you,  worshipped  you,  so  long !  "  I  said  in  a 
very  low  voice. 

"How  dare  you  speak  so?"  she  cried.  "You 
forget  that  "  — 

"No,  I  remember!"  I  interrupted  doggedly. 
"  I  forget  nothing.  You  do  not  love  him.  You 
are  mine." 

"  Oh !  "  she  gasped,  lifting  both  hands  sharply 
to  her  face  and  dropping  them  at  once.  "  I  shall 
never  trust  you  again." 

And  in  a  moment  she  had  flashed  past  me,  with 
a  sob,  and  disappeared  into  the  house. 


Chapter  IX 
In  Sleep  a  King,  but  Waking,  no  such  Matter 

DE  LAMOURIE  himself  showed  me  to  my 
room,  a  low  chamber  under  the  eaves,  very 
plainly  furnished.  In  the  houses  of  the  few  Aca- 
dian gentry  there  was  little  of  the  luxury  to  be 
found  in  the  seigneurial  mansions  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. In  the  De  Lamourie  house,  for  example, 
there  were  but  two  serving-maids,  with  one  man  to 
work  the  little  farm. 

If  De  Lamourie  had  noted  any  excitement  on 
Yvonne's  part,  or  any  abstraction  on  mine,  he  said 
nothing  of  it.  With  simple  kindness  he  set  down 
the  candle  on  my  dressing-table  and  wished  me 
good  sleep.  But  at  the  door  he  turned. 

"  Are  you  well  assured  that  the  abbe  will  not 
attempt  to  carry  out  his  threat?"  he  asked,  with  a 
tinge  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"I  am  confident  of  it,"  I  answered  boldly. 
"  That  worthy  ecclesiastic  will  not  try  issues  with 
me,  when  I  hold  the  king's  commission." 

Just  why  I  should  have  been  so  overweeningly 
53 


In  Sleep  a  King  59 

secure  is  not  clear  to  me  now  that  I  look  back 
upon  it.  That  I  should  have  expected  the  terrible 
La  Game  to  bow  so  pliantly  to  my  command  ap- 
pears to  me  now  the  most  fatuous  of  vain  follies. 
In  truth  I  was  thinking  only  of  Yvonne.  But  De 
Lamourie  seemed  to  take  my  assurance  as  final, 
and  went  away  in  blither  mood. 

My  room  was  lighted  by  a  narrow,  high-peaked 
dormer  window,  through  which  I  could  look  out 
across  the  moonlit  orchards,  the  level  dyke-lands, 
the  wide  and  winding  mouth  of  the  Gaspereau,  and 
the  far-glimmering  breast  of  Minas.  Upon  these 
my  eyes  rested  long  —  but  the  eyes  of  my  soul 
saw  quite  another  loveliness  than  that  of  the 
moon-flooded  landscape.  They  brooded  upon 
Yvonne's  face  —  the  troubled,  changing,  pleading 
look  in  her  eyes  —  her  sharp  and  strange  emotion 
at  the  last.  Over  and  over  it  all  I  went,  reliving 
each  moment,  each  word,  each  look,  each  breath. 
Then,  being  deeply  wearied  by  my  long  day's 
tramp,  but  with  no  hint  of  sleep  coming  to  my 
eyes,  I  threw  myself  down  upon  the  bed  to  deli- 
ciously  think  it  all  over  yet  again.  I  had  grown 
sure  that  Yvonne  loved  me.  Yet  once  more,  in  a 
still  ecstasy  of  reverence  and  love,  I  fell  at  her  feet 
and  kissed  them.  Then  I  thought  about  the  stone 
which  Mother  P£che  had  given  me,  and  its  mystic 
virtues,  which  I  would  explain  to  Yvonne  on  the 
morrow  in  the  apple-orchard.  Then  I  found  my- 


60  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

self  fancying  that  it  was  Yvonne  who  had  given 
me  the  talisman,  bidding  me  guard  it  well  if  I 
would  ever  hope  to  win  her  from  my  English 
rival.  And  then — the  sunlight  lay  in  a  white 
streak  across  my  bed-foot,  the  morning  sky  was 
blue  over  the  dyke  lands,  and  the  robins  were  joy- 
ous in  the  apple-blooms  under  my  window.  What 
a  marvellous  air  blew  in  upon  my  face,  sweet  with 
all  freshness  and  cleanness  and  wholesome  strength  ! 
I  sprang  up,  deriding  myself.  I  had  slept  all  night 
in  my  clothes. 

At  breakfast  I  found  myself  in  plain  favour; 
I  had  made  good  my  boast  and  shielded  the  house 
from  the  Black  Abbe.  Yvonne  met  my  eager 
looks  with  a  baffling  lightness.  She  was  all  gay 
courtesy  to  me,  but  there  was  that  in  her  face  which 
well  dashed  my  hopes.  Some  faint  encourage- 
ment, indeed,  I  drew  from  the  thought  that  her 
pallor  (which  became  her  wonderfully)  seemed 
to  tell  the  tale  of  a  sleepless  night.  Had  she, 
then,  lain  awake,  wearily  reproaching  herself, 
while  I  slept  like  a  clod?  If  so,  my  punish- 
ment was  not  long  delayed.  Before  the  break- 
fast was  over  I  was  in  a  fever  of  despairing 
solicitude.  At  last  I  achieved  a  moment's  speech 
with  Yvonne  while  the  others  were  out  of  ear- 
shot. 

"This  morning,"  said  I,  "in  the  apple-orchard, 
by  an  old  tree  which  I  shall  all  my  life  remember, 


In  Sleep  a  King  61 

I  am  to  read  you  those  verses,  am  I  not?  That 
was  your  decree." 

She  faced  me  with  laughter  in  her  eyes,  but 
the  eyes  dropped  in  spite  of  her,  and  the  colour 
came  a  little  back  to  her  cheeks. 

"  I  decree  otherwise  this  morning,"  she  said,  in 
a  voice  whose  lightness  was  not  perfect.  "  I  am 
busy  to-day,  and  shall  not  hear  your  poems  at  all, 
unless  you  read  them  to  us  this  evening." 

"I  will  read  them  to  you  alone,"  I  muttered, 
"  who  alone  are  the  source  of  them,  or  I  will  burn 
them  at  once  !  " 

"  Don't  burn  them,"  she  said,  flashing  one  ra- 
diant glance  at  me. 

"  Then  when  may  I  read  them  to  you  ? "  I 
begged. 

"  When  you  are  older,  and  a  little  wiser,  and  a 
great  deal  better,"  she  laughed,  turning  away  with 
a  finality  in  her  air  that  convinced  me  my  day 
was  lost. 

Putting  my  bravest  face  on  my  defeat,  I  said  to 
Madame  de  Lamourie : 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me,  Madame,  I  shall  con- 
strain myself  and  attend  to  certain  duties  in  and 
about  Grand  Pre  to-day.  I  must  see  the  cure ; 
and  I  have  a  commission  to  execute  for  the  Sieur 
de  Briart,  which  will  take  me  perhaps  as  far  as 
Pereau.  In  such  case  I  shall  not  be  back  here 
before  to-morrow  noon." 


62  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  If  our  pleasure  concerns  you,"  said  Madame 
very  graciously,  "  make  your  absence  as  brief  as 
you  can." 

"  I  was  born  with  a  nice  regard  for  self,"  I  re- 
plied. "  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  return  as  quickly 
as  possible." 

"  And  what  if  the  Black  Abbe  should  come 
while  you  are  away?"  questioned  Yvonne,  in 
mock  alarm. 

"  If  that  extraordinary  priest  makes  my  pres- 
ence here  a  long  necessity  I  shall  come  to  regard 
him  as  my  best  friend,"  said  I,  laughing,  as  I 
bowed  myself  out  to  join  De  Lamourie  in  a  stroll 
over  the  farm. 

During  this  walk  I  learned  much  of  the  state  of 
unrest  and  painful  dread  under  which  Acadie  was 
laboring.  De  Lamourie  told  me  how  the  English 
governor  at  Halifax  was  bringing  a  mighty  press- 
ure to  bear  upon  all  the  Acadian  householders, 
urging  them  to  swear  allegiance  to  King  George. 
This,  he  said,  very  many  were  willing  to  do,  as 
the  English  had  governed  them  with  justice  and  a 
most  patient  indulgence.  For  his  own  part,  while 
he  regretted  to  go  counter  to  opinions  which  I 
held  well-nigh  sacred,  he  declared  that,  in  his 
judgment,  the  cause  of  France  was  forever  lost  in 
Acadie,  if  not  in  all  Canada.  He  felt  it  his  duty 
to  give  in  his  allegiance  to  the  English  throne, 
under  whose  protection  he  had  prospered  these 


In  Sleep  a  King  63 

many  years.  But  strong  as  the  English  were,  he 
said,  the  prospect  was  not  reassuring ;  for  many 
of  those  who  had  taken  the  oath  had  been  brought 
to  swift  repentance  by  the  Black  Abbe's  painted 
and  yelling  pack,  the  very  Christian  Micmacs  of 
Shubenacadie ;  while  others  had  been  pillaged, 
maltreated,  and  even  in  some  cases  murdered,  by 
the  band  of  masquerading  cut-throats  who  served 
the  will  of  the  infamous  Vaurin. 

At  this  I  grew  hot  within,  realizing  as  I  had 
not  done  before  the  vile  connection  into  which  the 
Commandant  Vergor  had  cast  me.  But  I  said 
nothing,  being  unwilling  to  interrupt  De  Lamou- 
rie's  impassioned  story.  He  told  of  horrid 
treacheries  on  the  part  of  the  Micmacs,  dis- 
avowed, indeed,  by  La  Game,  but  unquestionably 
winked  at  by  him  as  a  means  of  keeping  the  Aca- 
dians  in  hand.  He  told  of  whole  villages  wiped 
out  by  the  Black  Abbe's  order,  the  houses  burned, 
the  trembling  villagers  removed  to  He  St.  Jean  or 
across  the  isthmus,  that  they  might  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  English  seductions.  He  told,  too,  of  the 
hideous  massacre  at  Dartmouth,  the  infant  English 
settlement  across  the  harbor  from  Halifax.  This 
had  come  to  my  ears,  but  he  gave  me  the  reeking 
particulars. 

"  And  this,  too,"  I  asked  in  horror,  "  is  it  La 
Game's  work?  " 

"  He  is  accused   of  it   by   the    English,"    said 


64  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

he,  "  but  for  once  he  is  accused  unjustly,  I  do 
believe.  It  was  Vaurin  who  planned  it;  Vaurin 
and  his  cut-throats,  disguised  as  Indians  and  with 
a  few  of  La  Game's  flock  to  help,  who  carried  it 
out.  It  was  too  purposeless  for  La  Game.  He 
rules  his  savages  with  a  rod  of  iron,  and  it  is  said 
that  his  displeasure  lay  heavy  for  a  time  upon  the 
braves  who  had  taken  part  in  that  outrage.  They 
went  without  pay  or  booty  for  many  months. 
But  at  length  he  forgave  them  —  he  had  work  for 
them  to  do." 

When  the  tale  was  done,  and  it  was  a  tale  that 
filled  me  with  shame  for  my  country's  cause,  I 
said: 

"  It  is  well  my  word  carried  such  weight  with 
the  good  abbe  last  night.  It  is  well  indeed,  and 
it  is  wonderful !  " 

"  I  cannot  even  yet  quite  understand  it,"  said 
De  Lamourie,  "  but  the  essential  part  is  the  highly 
satisfactory  result.  I  am  going  to  Halifax  next 
Monday,  Paul,  with  a  half  score  followers  who 
feel  as  I  do ;  and  though  I  cannot  expect  you  to 
sympathize  with  my  course,  I  dare  to  hope  you 
may  be  able  to  prolong  your  visit  so  as  to  keep 
my  wife  and  daughter  under  your  effective  protec- 
tion." 

I  think  I  must  have  let  the  eagerness  with 
which  I  accepted  this  trust  betray  itself  in  voice 
or  face,  for  Monsieur  de  Lamourie  looked  at  me 


In  Sleep  a  King  65 

curiously.  But  I  really  cared  little  what  his  sus- 
picions might  be.  If  I  could  win  Yvonne  I  thought 
I  might  be  sure  of  Yvonne's  father. 

Having  well  admired  the  orchard,  and  tried  to 
distinguish  the  "  pippin "  trees  from  the  "  belle- 
fleurs,"  the  "  Jeannetons "  from  the  "  Pride  of 
Normandie ;  "  having  praised  the  rich  and  even 
growth  of  the  flax  field ;  having  talked  with  an 
excellent  assumption  of  wisdom  on  the  well-bred 
and  well-fed  cattle  which  were  a  hobby  with  this 
courtier  farmer,  this  Versailles  Acadian,  I  stepped 
forth  into  the  main  street  of  Grand  Pre  and  turned 
toward  the  house  of  Father  Fafard.  I  was  curi- 
ously troubled  by  an  uneasiness  as  to  the  Black 
Abbe,  and  I  knew  no  better  antidote  to  a  bad 
priest  than  a  good  one. 


Chapter    X 
A    Grand   Pre    Morning 

WHEN  I  stepped  off  the  wide  grounds  of 
Monsieur  de  Lamourie  I  was  at  the  ex- 
treme eastern  end  of  the  village.  How  little  did  I 
dream  that  this  fairest  of  Acadian  towns  was 
lying  even  now  beneath  the  shadow  of  doom ! 
I  am  never  superstitious  in  the  morning.  Little 
did  I  dream  how  near  was  the  fulfilment  of  Grul's 
grim  prophecy,  or  how,  in  that  fulfilment,  Grand 
Pre  was  presently  to  fade  like  an  exhalation  from 
the  face  of  this  wide  green  Acadian  land  !  It  pleases 
me,  since  no  mortal  eye  shall  ever  again  see 
Grand  Pre  as  she  was,  to  find  that  now  I  recall  with 
clear-edged  memory  the  picture  which  she  made 
that  June  morning.  Not  only  do  I  see  her,  but  I 
hear  her  pleasant  sounds  —  the  shallow  rushing  of 
the  Gaspereau  at  ebb ;  the  mooing  of  the  cattle 
on  the  uplands ;  the  mellow  tangle  of  small  bell- 
music  from  the  bobolinks  a-hover  over  the  dyke 
meadows ;  now  and  then  a  neighbour  call  from 
roadside  to  barn  or  porch  or  window;  and  ever 

66 


A  Grand  Pre  Morning  67 

the  cheery  ding-clank,  ding-clank  from  the  forge 
far  up  the  street.  Not  only  do  I  hear  the  pleasant 
sounds,  but  the  clean  smells  of  that  fragrant  coun- 
try come  back  continually  with  wholesome  remin- 
iscence. Oh,  how  the  apple-blossoms  breathed 
their  souls  out  upon  that  tender  morning  air  !  How 
the  spring  wind,  soft  with  a  vital  moisture,  per- 
suaded forth  the  obscure  essences  of  grass  and  sod 
and  thicket !  How  good  was  the  salty  sea-tang 
from  the  uncovered  flats,  and  the  emptied  channels, 
and  the  still-dripping  lines  of  tide-mark  sedge  ! 
There  was  a  faint  savour  of  tar,  too,  at  intervals, 
evasively  pungent;  for  some  three  furlongs  dis- 
tant, at  the  end  of  a  lane  which  ran  at  right  angles 
to  the  main  street,  a  little  creek  fell  into  the  Gas- 
pereau,  and  by  the  wharf  at  the  creek-mouth  were 
fishermen  mending  their  boats  for  the  shad-fishing. 
Oh,  that  unjustly  ignored  member,  the  nose ! 
How  subtle  and  indestructible  are  its  memories ! 
They  know  the  swiftest  way  to  the  sources  of  joy 
and  tears.  The  eye,  the  ear,  the  nice  nerves  of 
the  fingertip,  —  these  have  no  such  sway  over  the 
mysteries  of  remembrance.  They  have  never  been 
quite  so  intimate,  for  a  sweet  smell  duly  appre- 
hended becomes  a  part  of  the  very  brain  and 
blood.  I  have  a  little  cream-yellow  kerchief  of 
silk  laid  away  in  many  folds  of  scentless  paper. 
Sometimes  I  untie  it  and  look  at  it.  How  well  I 
remember  it  as  once  it  clung  about  the  fair  hair  of 


68  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

my  young  mother !  I  see  myself,  a  thin,  dark, 
grave-faced  little  boy,  leaning  against  her  knee 
and  looking  up  with  love  into  her  face.  The 
memory  moves  me  —  but  as  a  picture.  "  Was  it 
I?  "  I  am  able  to  wonder.  "  And  did  I,  that  dark 
boy,  have  a  mother  like  that?  "  But  when  I  bury 
my  face  in  the  kerchief,  and  inhale  the  faint  sa- 
vour it  still  wonderfully  holds,  I  know,  I  feel  it  all. 
Once  more  I  am  in  her  arms,  strained  to  her 
breast,  my  small  face  pressed  close  to  her  smooth 
neck  where  the  tiny  ripples  of  silken  gold  began ; 
and  I  smell  the  delicate,  intimate  sweetness  that 
seemed  to  be  her  very  self;  and  my  eyes  run  over 
with  hot  tears  of  longing  for  her  kiss.  I  have  a 
skirt  of  hers,  too,  laid  away,  and  an  apron ;  but 
these  do  not  so  much  move  me,  for  as  a  child 
I  spoiled  them  with  weeping  into  them,  I  think. 
The  kerchief  was  not  then  large  enough  to  attract 
the  childish  vehemence  of  my  sorrow,  so  it  was 
spared,  till  by  and  by  I  came  to  know  and  guard 
the  priceless  talisman  of  memory  which  it  held. 

For  some  minutes  I  stood  at  the  street-foot, 
looking  down  the  river-bank  to  the  wharf  and  the 
boats,  steeping  my  brain  in  those  pleasant  smells 
of  Grand  Pre.  Then  I  turned  up  the  street.  It 
was  all  as  I  had  left  it  two  years  before,  save  that 
then  the  apple-trees  were  green  like  the  willows 
by  the  marsh  edge ;  while  now  they  were  white 
and  pink,  a  foam  of  bee-thronged  sweetness  surg- 


A  Grand  Pr6  Morning  69 

ing  close  about  the  village  roofs.  The  cottages 
on  either  side  the  street  were  low,  and  dazzling 
white  with  lime-wash  from  the  Piziquid  quarries. 
Their  wide-flaring  gables  were  presented  with 
great  regularity  to  the  street.  The  roofs  of  the 
larger  cottages  were  broken  by  narrow  dormer 
windows;  and  all,  large  and  small  alike,  were 
stained  to  a  dark  purplish-slate  color  with  a  wash 
which  is  made,  I  understand,  by  mixing  the  lime 
with  a  quantity  of  slaked  hard-wood  ash.  The 
houses  stood  each  with  a  little  space  before  it,  now 
neatly  tilled  and  deeply  tufted  with  young  green, 
but  presently  to  become  a  mass  of  colour  when  the 
scarlet  lychnis,  blue  larkspur,  lavender,  marigolds, 
and  other  summer-blooming  plants  should  break 
into  flower.  Far  up  the  street,  at  the  point  where 
a  crossroad  led  out  over  the  marshes  to  the  low, 
dark-wooded  ridge  of  the  island,  stood  the  forge ; 
and  as  I  drew  nearer  the  warm,  friendly  breath  of 
the  fire  purred  under  the  anvil's  clinking.  Back  of 
the  forge,  along  the  brink  of  the  open  green  levels, 
stood  a  grove  of  rounded  willow-trees.  Further 
on,  a  lane  bordered  with  smaller  cabins  ran  in  a 
careless,  winding  fashion  up  the  hillside ;  and  a 
little  way  from  the  corner,  dwarfing  the  roofs, 
loftily  overpeering  the  most  venerable  apple-trees, 
and  wearing  a  conscious  air  of  benignant  super- 
vision, rose  the  church  of  Grand  Pre,  somewhat 
squatly  capacious  in  the  body,  but  with  a  spire 


70  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

that  soared  very  graciously.  Just  beyond,  but 
hidden  by  the  church,  I  could  see  in  my  mind's 
eye  the  cure's  cottage.  My  footsteps  hastened  at 
the  thought  of  Father  Fafard  and  his  greeting. 

The  men  of  the  village  were  at  that  hour  mostly 
away  in  the  fields  ;  but  there  were  enough  at  home 
about  belated  barnyard  business  to  halt  me  many 
times  with  their  welcomes  before  I  got  to  the  forge. 
These  greetings,  in  the  main,  had  the  old-time 
heartiness,  making  me  feel  my  citizenship  in  Grand 
Pre.  But  there  was  much  eager  interrogation  as 
to  the  cause  of  my  presence,  and  a  something  of 
suspicion,  at  times,  in  the  acceptance  of  my  sim- 
ple answer,  which  puzzled  and  vexed  me.  It  was 
borne  in  upon  me  that  I  was  thought  to  be  com- 
missioned with  great  matters,  and  my  frankness 
but  a  mask  for  grave  and  dubious  affairs. 

Outside  the  forge,  when  at  last  I  came  to  it, 
stood  waiting  two  horses,  while  another  was  inside 
being  shod.  The  acrid  smell  of  the  searing  iron 
upon  the  hoof  awoke  in  my  breast  a  throng  of 
boyish  memories,  which,  however,  I  had  not  time 
to  note  and  discriminate  between ;  for  the  owners 
of  the  two  horses  hailed  and  stopped  me.  They 
were  men  of  the  out-settlements,  whom  I  knew  but 
well  enough  to  pass  the  weather  with.  Yet  I  saw 
it  in  their  eyes  that  they  had  heard  something  of 
my  arrival.  Question  hung  upon  their  lips.  I  gave 
them  no  time  for  it,  but  with  as  little  patience  as 


A  Grand  Pre  Morning  71 

consisted  with  civility  I  hastened  into  the  forge 
and  seized  the  hand  of  the  smith,  my  old  friend 
and  my  true  friend,  Nicole  Brun. 

"  Master  Paul !  "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  which 
meant  a  thousand  welcomes;  and  stood  gripping 
my  fingers,  and  searching  me  with  his  eyes,  while 
the  iron  in  his  other  hand  slowly  faded  from  pink 
to  purple. 

"  Well,"  I  laughed  presently,  "  there  is  one  man 
in  Grand  Pre,  I  perceive,  who  is  merely  glad  to 
greet  me  home,  and  not  too  deeply  troubled  over 
the  reasons  for  my  coming." 

"  Hein !  You've  seen  it  and  heard  it  already," 
said  Nicole,  releasing  my  fingers  from  his  knotty 
grasp,  and  throwing  back  his  thick  shoulders  with 
a  significant  shrug.  "  Mother  P£che  told  me  last 
night  of  your  coming;  and  last  night,  too,  the 
Black  Abbe  passed  this  way.  The  town  is  all  of 
a  buzz  with  reasons,  this  way  and  that.  And  some 
there  be  that  are  for  you,  but  more  that  fear  you, 
Master  Paul." 

"  Fear  me?  "  I  asked,  incredulous. 

"  Along  of  the  Black  Abbe  and  Vaurin  !  "  an- 
swered Nicole,  as  if  explaining  everything. 

"That  Vaurin  —  curse  him!  "  I  exclaimed  an- 
grily. "But  what  say  you,  Nicole?  I  give  you 
my  word,  as  I  have  told  every  one,  I  come  to 
Grand  Pre  on  my  own  private  business,  and  mix 
not  at  all  with  public  matters." 


72  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  So?  "  said  he,  lifting  his  shaggy  eyebrows  in 
plain  surprise.  "  But  in  any  case  it  had  been  all 
the  same  to  me.  I'm  a  quiet  man,  and  bide  me 
here,  taking  no  part  but  to  forge  an  honest  shoe 
for  the  beast  of  friend  or  foe;  but  I'm  your  man, 
Master  Paul,  through  thick  and  thin,  as  my  father 
was  your  father's.  Tis  a  hard  thing  to  decide, 
these  days,  what  with  Halifax  and  the  English 
governor  pulling  one  way,  Quebec  and  the  Black 
Abbe  pulling  the  other,  and  his  reverence's  red 
devils  up  to  Lord  knows  what !  But  I  follow  you, 
•Master  Paul,  come  what  may !  I'm  ready." 

I  laid  my  hand  laughingly  on  his  shoulder,  and 
thanked  him. 

"  I  believe  you,  my  friend,"  said  I.  "  And 
there's  no  man  I  trust  more.  But  I've  no  lead  to 
set  you  just  now.  Be  true  to  France,  in  all  open- 
ness, and  lend  no  ear  to  treachery,  is  all  I  say.  I 
am  the  king's  man,  heart  and  soul ;  but  the  Eng- 
lish are  a  fair  foe,  and  to  be  fought  with  fair 
weapons,  say  I,  or  not  at  all." 

"  Right  you  are,  Master  Paul,"  grunted  Nicole  in 
hearty  approval.  There  was  a  triumphant  grin  on 
his  square  and  sooty  face,  which  I  marked  with 
a  passing  wonder. 

"  And  as  for  this  Vaurin,"  I  continued,  "  I  spit 
on  all  such  sneaking  fire-in-the-night,  throat-slit- 
ting, scalp-lifting  rabble,  who  bring  a  good  cause 
to  bitter  shame  !  " 


A  Grand  Pre  Morning  73 

I  spoke  with  unwonted  heat;  for  I  was  yet 
wroth  at  the  commandant  for  his  misuse  of  my 
ignorance,  and  smarting  raw  at  the  notion  of  being 
classed  in  with  Vaurin. 

I  observed  that  at  my  words  Nicole's  triumphant 
grin  was  shot  across  with  a  sort  of  apprehension ; 
and  at  the  same  moment  I  observed,  too,  a  sturdy 
stranger,  apparently  the  owner  of  the  horse  now 
being  shod.  He  sat  to  the  right  of  the  forge  fire, 
far  back  against  the  wall ;  but  as  I  finished  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  came  briskly  forward. 

"  Blood  of  God,"  he  snarled  blasphemously, 
"  but  this  is  carrying  the  joke  too  far !  You  play 
your  part  a  trifle  too  well,  young  man.  Let  me 
counsel  you  to  keep  a  respectful  tongue  in  your 
head  when  you  speak  of  your  betters." 

"  Faith,  and  I  do  that !  "  said  I  pleasantly, 
taking  note  of  him  with  care.  From  his  speech  I 
read  him  to  be  a  Gascon  of  the  lower  sort;  while 
from  his  dress  I  judged  that  he  played  the  gentle- 
man adventurer.  But  I  set  him  down  for  a  hardy 
rogue. 

"  But  from  whom  do  I  receive  in  such  ill  lan- 
guage such  excellent  good  advice?"  I  went  on. 

"  One  who  can  enforce  it !  "  he  cried  roughly, 
misled  by  my  civil  air.  "  I'm  a  friend  of  Cap- 
tain Vaurin,  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  serve.  It 
seems  to  suit  some  purpose  of  yours  just  now  to 
deny  it,  but  you  were  with  him  yesterday,  in  coun- 


74  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

sel  with  him,  a  messenger  from  Colonel  Vergor 
to  him;  and  you  came  on  here  at  his  orders." 

"  That  is  a  lie  !  "  said  I  very  gently,  smiling 
upon  him.  "  The  other  rascal,  Vergor,  tricked  me 
with  his  letter ;  and  he  shall  pay  for  it !  " 

Thus  given  the  lie,  but  so  softly,  the  fellow 
uttered  a  choking  gurgle  betwixt  astonishment 
and  rage,  and  I  calculated  the  chance  of  his  rush- 
ing upon  me  without  warning.  He  was,  as  I 
think  I  said,  a  very  sturdy  figure  of  a  man,  though 
not  tall ;  and  he  gave  sign  of  courage  enough  in 
his  angry  little  eyes  and  jutting  chin.  A  side 
glance  at  Nicole  showed  me  that  he  was  pleased 
with  the  turn  of  affairs,  and  had  small  love  for  the 
stranger.  I  caught  at  the  doorway  the  faces  of 
the  two  men  from  the  out-settlements,  with  eyes 
and  ears  all  agog. 

The  stranger  gulped  down  his  rage  and  set  him- 
self to  ape  my  coolness. 

"  Whatever  your  business  with  my  captain," 
said  he,  "  we  are  here  now  as  private  gentlemen, 
and  you  must  give  me  satisfaction.  Be  good 
enough  to  draw,  monsieur." 

Now,  I  was  embarrassed  and  annoyed  by  this 
encounter,  for  I  certainly  could  not  fight  one  of 
Vaurin's  crew,  and  I  was  in  haste  to  see  Father 
Fafard.  I  cursed  my  folly  in  having  been  led  into 
such  an  unworthy  altercation.  How  most  quickly 
should  I  get  out  of  it? 


A  Grand  Pre  Morning  75 

"  I  am  a  captain  in  the  king's  service,"  said  I 
abruptly,  "  and  I  cannot  cross  swords  but  with  a 
gentleman." 

The  fellow  spluttered  in  a  fine  fury,  more  or  less 
assumed,  I  must  believe.  His  oaths  were  of  a 
sort  which  grated  me,  but  having  delivered  him- 
self of  them  he  said : 

"  I  too  serve  the  king.  And  I  too,  I'd  have 
you  know,  am  a  gentleman.  None  of  your  Ca- 
nadian half-breed  seigneurs,  but  a  gentleman  of 
Gascony.  Out  with  your  sword,  or  I  spit  you  !  " 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  I  answered  smoothly,  "  that 
I  cannot  fight  with  one  of  Vaurin's  cut-throats, 
for  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  stout-hearted  rascal  who 
might  give  me  a  good  bout.  But  as  for  the  gen- 
tleman of  Gascony,  faith,  my  credulity  will  not 
stand  so  great  a  tax.  From  your  accents,  Mon- 
sieur, I  could  almost  name  the  particular  sty  by 
the  Bordeaux  waterside  which  must  claim  the 
distinction  of  your  birth." 

As  I  had  calculated,  this  insult  brought  it. 
My  prod  had  struck  the  raw.  With  a  choking 
curse  the  fellow  sprang  at  me,  naked  handed, 
blind  in  his  bull  strength. 

I  dropped  one  foot  to  the  rear,  met  and  stopped 
the  rush  by  planting  my  left  fist  in  his  face,  then 
gave  him  my  right  under  his  jaw,  with  the  full 
thrust  of  my  body,  from  the  foot  up.  It  was  a 
beautiful  trick,  learned  of  an  English  prisoner  at 


76  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Montreal,  who  had  trained  me  all  one  winter  in 
the  fistic  art  of  his  countrymen.  My  impetuous 
antagonist  went  backward  over  the  anvil,  and 
seemed  in  small  haste  to  pick  himself  up.  The 
spectators  gaped  at  the  strange  tactics ;  and 
Nicole,  as  I  bade  him  good-by,  chuckled : 

"There'll  be  trouble  for  this  somewhere,  Master 
Paul!  Watch  out  sharp  —  and  don't  go  'round 
o'  nights  without  taking  me  along.  Le  Furet  is 
not  nicknamed  'The  Ferret'  for  nothing!" 

"  All  right,  my  friend,"  said  I ;  "  when  I  want  a 
guard  I'll  send  for  you." 

I  went  off  toward  Father  Fafard's,  pleased  with 
myself,  pleased  with  the  English  captain  who 
had  taught  me  such  a  useful  accomplishment,  and 
pleased,  I  confess,  with  Vaurin's  minion  for  having 
afforded  me  such  a  fair  chance  to  display  it. 


Chapter  XI 
Father   Fafard 

THE  incident  at  the  forge,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
was  one  to  scatter  effectually  any  rumours 
of  my  connection  with  Vaurin,  and  I  congratulated 
myself  most  heartily  upon  it.  It  could  not  fail,  I 
thought,  to  look  well  in  Yvonne's  eyes.  It  con- 
firmed me  in  my  resolve  to  go  to  Canard  that 
afternoon,  and  perhaps  to  Pereau,  getting  my 
uncle's  business  off  my  hands,  and  not  return- 
ing to  De  Lamourie  Place  till  I  might  be 
sure  that  the  circumstances  had  been  heard  and 
well  digested  there.  Having  this  course  set- 
tled in  my  mind,  I  passed  the  church,  entered 
the  gate  between  its  flowering  lilac-bushes,  and 
hastened  up  the  narrow  path  to  Father  Fafard's 
door.  Ere  I  could  reach  it  the  good  priest  stood 
upon  his  threshold  to  greet  me,  both  hands 
out,  his  kind  grey  eyes  half  closed  by  the  crowd- 
ing smiles  that  creased  his  round  and  ruddy 
face. 

"  My  boy !  "  he  said.      "  I  have  looked  for  you 
77 


78  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

all  the  morning.  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me 
last  night?" 

His  voice,  big,  yet  low  and  soft,  had  ever  quaintly 
reminded  me  of  a  ripe  apple  in  its  mellow  firmness. 

Both  hands  in  his,  I  answered,  bantering  him: 

"  But,  father,  the  church  gave  me  work  to  do 
last  night.  Could  I  neglect  that?  I  had  to  see 
that  the  Reverend  Father  La  Game  did  not  turn 
aside  from  his  sacred  ministrations  to  burn  down 
the  houses  of  my  friends." 

The  kind  face  grew  grave  and  stern. 

"  I  know!  I  know!  "  he  said.  "  This  land  of 
Acadie  is  in  an  evil  case.  But  come,  let  us  eat, 
and  talk  afterwards.  I  have  waited  for  you  far 
past  my  hour." 

He  turned  into  his  little  dining-room,  a  very 
plainly  furnished  closet  off  the  kitchen. 

I  was  hungry,  so  for  a  space  there  was  no  talk, 
while  the  fried  chicken  and  barley  cakes  which 
the  brown  old  housekeeper  set  before  us  made 
rapid  disappearance.  Then  came  sweet  curds 
with  thick  cream,  and  sugar  of  the  maple  grated 
over  them,  —  a  dish  of  which  delectable  memo- 
ries had  clung  to  me  from  boyhood.  This  savory 
and  wholesome  meal  done,  Father  Fafard  brought 
out  some  dark-red  West  Indian  rum  which  smelled 
most  pleasantly.  As  he  poured  it  for  me  he  tap- 
ped the  bottle  and  said  : 

"  This  comes  to  us  by  way  of  Boston.     Thes^ 


Father  Fafard  79 

English  have  an  excellent  judgment  in  liquor, 
Paul.  It  is  one  of  our  small  compensations." 

I  laughed,  thinking  of  the  scant  concern  it  was 
to  Father  Fafard,  ever,  for  all  his  fineness  of  pal- 
ate, one  of  the  most  abstemious  of  men.  As  we 
sat  at  ease  and  sipped  the  brew  he  said : 

"  I  hear  you  faced  down  the  Black  Abbe  last 
night,  and  fairly  drove  him  off  the  field." 

"  I  had  that  satisfaction,"  said  I,  striving  to  look 
modest  over  it. 

"  He  gave  way  to  you,  the  Black  Abbe  himself, 
who  browbeats  the  commandant  at  Beausejour, 
and  fears  no  man  living,  —  unless  it  be  that  mad 
heretic  Grul,  perchance  !  And  he  yielded  to  your 
authority,  my  boy?  How  do  you  account  for  the 
miracle?  " 

Now  it  had  not  hitherto  seemed  to  me  so  much 
of  a  miracle,  and  I  was  a  shade  nettled  that  it 
should  seem  one  to  others.  I  was  used  to  con- 
trolling violent  men,  and  why  not  meddling  priests? 

"  I  suppose  he  saw  I  meant  it.  Perhaps  he 
respected  the  king's  commission.  I  know  not," 
said  I  v/ith  indifference. 

Father  Fafard  smiled  dryly. 

"  I  grant,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  a  hard  man 
to  cross,  Paul,  for  all  your  graciousness.  But  La 
Game  would  risk  that,  or  anything ;  and  he  cares 
for  the  king's  commission  only  when  it  suits  him 
to  care  for  it.  Oh,  no  !  If  he  gave  way  to  you  he 


8o  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

believed  you  were  doing  his  work,  and  he  would 
not  interfere.  What  is  your  errand  to  Acadie, 
Paul?"  he  added,  suddenly  leaning  forward  and 
searching  my  face. 

I  felt  myself  flush  with  indignation,  and  half 
rose  from  my  seat.  Then  I  remembered  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  my  reasons  for  coming,  and  that 
his  question  was  but  natural.  This  cooled  me. 
But  I  looked  him  reproachfully  in  the  eyes. 

''  Do  you  think  me  a  conspirator  and  a  compan- 
ion of  cut-throats?  "  I  asked.  "  I  have  no  public 
business  to  bring  me  here  to  Grand  Pre,  father.  I 
got  short  leave  from  my  general,  my  first  in  two 
years,  and  I  have  come  to  Acadie  for  my  own 
pleasure  and  for  no  reason  else.  My  word !  " 

He  leaned  back  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"  It  is,  of  course,  enough,  Paul,"  said  he  heartily. 
"  But  in  these  bad  days  one  knows  not  what  to 
expect,  nor  whence  the  bolt  may  fall.  There  is 
distrust  on  all  sides.  As  for  my  unhappy  people, 
they  are  like  to  be  ground  to  dust  between  the 
upper  stone  of  England  and  the  lower  stone  of 
France."  He  sighed  heavily,  looking  out  upon 
his  dooryard  lilacs  as  if  he  thought  to  bid  them 
soon  farewell.  Then  the  kindly  glance  came  back 
into  his  eyes,  and  he  turned  them  again  upon  me. 

"  But  why,"  he  inquired,  "  did  you  go  first  to 
Monsieur  de  Lamourie's,  instead  of  coming,  as  of 
old,  at  once  to  me?" 


Father  Fafard  81 


I  hesitated ;  then  decided  to  speak  frankly,  so 
far  as  might  seem  fitting. 

"  Grul  warned  me,"  said  I,  "  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Lamourie  was  in  danger.  I  dared  not  delay." 

"Why  she  in  especial?"  he  persisted,  gravely 
teasing,  as  was  his  right  and  custom.  "  Were  not 
monsieur  and  madame  in  like  peril  of  the  good 
abbe's  hand?" 

"  It  was  her  peril  that  most  concerned  me,"  I 
said  bluntly. 

He  studied  my  face,  and  then,  I  suppose,  read 
my  heart,  which  I  made  no  effort  to  veil.  The 
smile  went  from  his  lips. 

"  I  fear  you  love  the  girl,  Paul,"  said  he  very 
gently.  "  I  am  sorry  for  you,  more  sorry  than  I 
can  say.  But  you  are  too  late.  Were  you  told 
about  the  Englishman?" 

"  I  met  him,"  said  I,  with  a  voice  less  steady 
than  I  desired  it  to  be,  for  my  heart  was  straight- 
way in  insurrection  at  the  topic.  "  Madame  told 
me,  incidentally.  But  it  is  not  too  late,  father ! 
I  may  call  it  so  when  she  is  dead,  or  I." 

"  It  is  your  hurt  that  speaks  in  haste,"  said  he 
rebukingly.  "  But  you  know  you  are  wrong,  and 
such  words  idle.  Indeed,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  I 
would  you  had  her,  not  he.  But  her  troth  is 
solemnly  plighted,  and  he  is  a  good  man  and  fair 
to  look  at ;  though  I  like  him  not  over  well.  As 
he  was  a  Protestant,  I  long  stood  out  against  him ; 


82  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

but  Giles  de  Lamourie  is  now  half  English  at  heart, 
and  Yvonne  is  wilful.  Why  were  you  not  here  to 
help  me  a  half  year  back,  my  boy?  " 

"Ay!  why  not?"  I  exclaimed  bitterly,  grip- 
ping my  pewter  mug  till  it  lost  all  semblance  of  a 
mug.  "  And  why  was  I  a  fool,  a  blind,  blind  dolt, 
when  I  was  here,  two  years  back?  But  I  am  here 
now.  And  you  shall  see  I  am  not  too  late !  " 

"  You  speak  rashly,  Paul,"  said  he,  with  a  trace 
of  sternness.  "  You  may  be  sure,  however  much 
I  love  you,  I  will  not  help  you  now  in  your  wicked 
purpose.  Would  you  make  her  false  to  her 
word?" 

"  Her  word  was  false  to  her  heart,  that  I  know," 
said  I.  "  Better  be  false  for  a  little  than  for  a  life- 
time, and  two  lives  made  as  one  death  for  it." 

The  round,  kindly  face  smiled  ironically  at  the 
passion  which  had  crept  into  my  voice. 

"  You  speak  now  as  a  poet,  I  think,  Paul,"  said 
he.  "  I  suppose  I  must  allow  for  some  hyperbole 
and  not  be  too  much  alarmed  at  your  passion. 
Yet  I  must  confess  you  seem  to  me  too  old  for 
this  child-talk  of  life  and  death,  as  if  they  were 
both  compassed  in  a  woman's  loving  or  not 
loving." 

"  I  speak  with  all  sobriety,  father,"  said  I,  "  and 
I  speak  of  that  which  I  know.  Forgive  me  if  I 
suggest  that  you  do  less." 

The  priest's  eyes  shaded  as  with  sorrowful  re- 


Father  Fafard  83 


membrance,  and  he  looked  out  across  the  apple- 
trees  as  he  answered : 

"  You  think  I  have  always  been  a  priest,"  said 
he;  "  that  I  have  always  dwelt  where  the  passions 
and  pains  of  earth  can  touch  me  only  as  reflected 
from  the  hearts  of  others  —  the  hearts  into  which 
I  look  as  into  a  mirror.  How  should  I  understand 
what  I  see  in  such  a  mirror,  if  I  had  not  myself 
once  known  these  things  that  make  storm  in  man's 
life?  I  have  loved,  Paul." 

"  How  much?  "  I  asked. 

"  Enough,"  said  he,  "  to  lose  her  for  her  own 
good.  I  was  a  poor  student  with  no  prospects. 
She  was  beautiful  and  good,  and  her  duty  to  her 
family  required  that  she  should  marry  as  they 
wished.  I  had  no  right  to  her.  I  could  not  have 
her.  For  her  love  I  vowed  to  live  single  —  and  I 
have  come  to  know  that  the  love  of  a  woman  is 
but  one  small  part  of  life." 

"  Plainly,"  said  I,  watching  him  with  interest, 
"  there  was  no  resistless  compulsion  in  that  love. 
But  you  are  right;  of  most  lives  love  is  but  an 
accident,  the  plaything  of  propinquity.  It  dimly 
feels  its  insignificance  in  the  face  of  serious  affairs, 
and  gives  place,  as  it  should.  But  there  is  a  love 
which  is  different.  Few,  indeed,  are  they  who  are 
born  to  endure  the  light  of  its  uncovered  face ;  but 
all  have  heard  the  dim  tradition  of  it.  I  cannot 
make  you  understand  it,  father,  any  more  than  I 


84  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

could  teach  a  blind  man  the  wonder  of  that 
radiating  blue  up  there.  That  old  half-knowl- 
edge of  yours  has  sealed  your  eyes  more  closely 
than  if  you  had  never  known  at  all.  I  can  only 
tell  you  there  is  a  love  to  which  life  and  death 
must  serve  as  lackeys." 

As  he  listened,  first  astonishment  marked  his 
face ;  for  never  before  had  I  spoken  to  him  save 
as  a  boy  to  his  trusted  master.  Then  indignation 
struggled  with  solicitude.  Then  he  seemed  to 
remember  that  I  was  not  a  boy,  but  a  man  well 
hardened  in  the  school  of  stern  experience. 
Therefore  he  seemed  to  decide  that  I  must  be 
treated  with  mild  banter.  He  lay  back  in  his 
chair,  folded  his  well-kept  hands  on  his  ample 
stomach,  and  chuckled  indulgently  before  replying. 

"  The  fever  is  upon  you,  Paul,"  said  he.  "  Poet 
and  peasant  alike  must  have  it.  In  this  form  it  is 
not  often  more  dangerous  or  more  lasting  than 
measles ;  but  unlike  measles,  alas,  one  attack 
grants  no  immunity  from  another !  " 

I  loved  him  well,  and  his  jibes  stung  me  not  at 
all.  I  fell  comfortably  into  his  mood. 

"  A  frontier  fighter  must  be  his  own  physician," 
I  said  lightly.  "  You  shall  see  how  I  will  medicine 
this  fever." 

"  I  will  trust  Yvonne  de  Lamourie's  plighted 
word,"  he  said  gravely,  after  a  pause  of  some  mo- 
ments. Then  a  wave  of  strong  feeling  went  over 


Father  Fafard  85 

his  face,  and  he  broke  out  with  a  passion  in  his 
voice : 

"  Paul,  do  not  misjudge  me.  I  love  you  as  my 
own  son,  and  there  is  no  one  else  in  the  world 
whom  I  love  as  I  love  Yvonne  de  Lamourie.  Not 
her  own  father  can  love  her  as  I  do,  a  lonely  old 
man  to  whom  her  face  is  more  than  sunshine.  Do 
I  not  desire  with  all  my  heart  that  you  should 
have  her  —  you  whom  I  trust,  you  whom  I  know  to 
be  a  true  son  of  the  church?  But  as  I  must  tell 
you  again,  though  it  grieves  me  to  say  it,  you 
have  come  too  late.  The  Englishman's  faithful 
and  unselfish  devotion  has  won  her  promise.  She 
will  keep  it,  and  she  will  bring  him  into  the 
church.  Moreover,  she  owes  him  more  than  she 
can  ever  repay.  Giles  de  Lamourie  has  long  been 
under  the  suspicion  of  the  English  government, 
who  accused  him,  unjustly,  of  having  had  a  hand 
in  the  massacre  of  the  New  Englanders  here.  His 
estates  were  on  the  very  verge  of  confiscation  ; 
but  Anderson  saved  him  and  made  him  secure. 
That  there  is  some  dreadful  fate  even  now  hanging 
over  this  fair  land  I  feel  assured.  What  it  may 
be  I  dare  not  guess ;  but  in  the  hour  of  ruin 
George  Anderson  will  see  that  the  house  of  De 
Lamourie  stands  unscathed.  For,  Paul,  I  know 
that  Heaven  is  with  the  English  in  this  quarrel. 
Our  iniquity  in  high  places  has  not  escaped  un- 
seen." 


86  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Grul's  prophecy  touches  even  you,"  I  re- 
marked, rising.  "  But  I  must  go,  father.  I  have 
errands  across  the  dyke,  for  my  uncle ;  and  1 
would  be  back  for  the  night,  if  possible,  to  ease 
the  fears  of  Monsieur  de  Lamourie.  And  as  for 
her — be  assured  I  will  use  none  but  fair  means  in 
the  great  venture  of  my  life." 

"  I  am  assured  of  it,  Paul,"  said  he,  grasping 
my  outstretched  hand  with  all  affection.  "  And  I 
am  assured,  too,  that  you  will  utterly  and  irreme- 
diably fail.  Therefore  I  am  the  less  troubled, 
my  dear  boy,  though  my  heart  is  sore  enough  for 
you." 

"  I  can  but  thank  God,"  I  retorted  cheerfully, 
retreating  down  the  path  between  the  lilacs,  "  that 
the  offices  of  priest  and  prophet  do  sometimes 
exist  apart." 

As  I  looked  back  at  him,  before  turning  down 
the  lane,  his  kind,  round,  ruddy  face  was  puckered 
solicitously  over  a  problem  which  grew  but  the 
harder  as  he  pondered  it. 


Chapter  XII 
Le  Furet  at  the  Ferry 

FROM  the  cure's  I  cut  across  the  fields  to  escape 
further  delay,  and  so,  avoiding  the  westerly 
skirts  of  the  village,  came  out  upon  the  Canard 
trail.  I  made  the  utmost  haste,  for  the  after- 
noon was  already  on  the  wane.  For  some 
three  miles  beyond  the  village  the  road  runs 
through  a  piece  of  old  woods,  mostly  of  beech, 
birch,  and  maple,  whose  young  greenery  exhaled 
a  most  pleasant  smell  on  the  fresh  June  air.  By 
the  wayside  grew  the  flowers  of  later  spring, 
purple  wake-robins,  the  pink  and  white  wild 
honeysuckle,  the  solitary  painted  triangle  of  the 
trillium,  and  the  tender  pink  bells  of  the  linnaea, 
revealed  by  their  perfume.  Once  I  frightened  a 
scurrying  covey  of  young  partridges.  As  for  the 
squirrels,  chipmunks,  and  rabbits,  so  pert  were 
they  in  their  fearless  curiosity  that  I  was  ready  to 
pretend  they  were  the  same  as  those  which  of  old 
in  my  boyish  vagabondings  I  had  taught  to  be 
unafraid  of  my  approach.  With  the  one  half  of 

87 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 


my  soul  I  was  a  boy  again,  retraversing  these 
dear  familiar  woods ;  the  other  half  of  me,  mean- 
while, was  bowed  with  a  presentiment  of  disaster. 
The  confidence  in  the  priest's  tone  still  thrilled 
me  with  fear.  But  under  whatever  alternations 
of  hope  and  despair,  deep  down  in  my  heart  where 
the  great  resolves  take  form  deliberately  my  pur- 
pose settled  into  the  shape  which  does  Hot  change. 
By  the  time  I  emerged  from  the  wood  I  was  ready 
to  laugh  at  Father  Fafard  or  anyone  else  who  should 
tell  me  that  success  would  not  be  mine  at  the  last. 

"  She  may  not  know  it  yet  herself,  but  she  is 
mine,"  I  declared  to  the  open  marshes,  as  I  set 
foot  out  upon  the  raised  way  which  led  over  to 
the  Habitants  Ferry. 

The  ferry-boat  which  crosses  the  deep  and  tur- 
bid tide  of  the  Habitants  is  a  clumsy  scow  pro- 
pelled by  a  single  oar  thrust  out  from  the  stern. 
The  river  is  hardly  passable  save  for  an  hour  on 
either  side  of  full  flood.  The  rest  of  the  time  it 
is  a  shrinking  yet  ever-turbulent  stream  which 
roars  along  between  precipitous  banks  of  red 
engulfing  slime.  When  I  reached  the  shore  of 
this  unstable  water  it  lacked  but  a  few  minutes  of 
flood.  The  scow  was  just  putting  off  for  the 
opposite  shore,  with  one  passenger.  I  recognized 
the  ferryman,  yellow  Ba'tiste  Chouan,  ever  a 
friend  to  me  in  the  dear  old  days.  I  shouted  for 
him  to  wait. 


Le  Furet  at  the  Ferry  89 

The  scow  was  already  some  half  score  feet  from 
land,  but  Ba'tiste,  seeing  the  prospect  of  more 
silver,  stopped  and  made  as  if  to  turn  back.  At 
once,  however,  his  passenger  interfered,  with  vehe- 
ment gestures,  and  eager  speech  which  I  could 
not  hear.  Eying  him  closely,  I  perceived  that  it 
was  none  other  than  that  ruffian  of  Vaurin's 
whom  I  had  so  incontinently  discomfited  at  the 
forge.  His  haste  I  could  now  well  understand, 
and  I  saw  him  urging  it  with  such  effective  silvern 
argument  that  Ba'tiste  began  to  yield. 

"  Ba'tiste,"  I  cried  sharply,  "  don't  you  know 
me?  Take  a  good  look  at  me;  my  haste  is 
urgent." 

My  voice  caught  him.  "  Tiens!  It's  Master 
Paul,"  he  cried,  and  straightway  thrust  back  to 
shore,  calmly  ignoring  threats  and  bribes  alike. 

As  I  sprang  aboard  and  grasped  Ba'tiste's  gaunt 
claw  I  expected  nothing  less  than  a  second  bout 
with  my  adversary  of  the  morning.  But  he,  while 
I  talked  with  the  ferryman  of  this  and  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  wont  of  old  acquaintances  long  apart, 
kept  a  discreet  silence  at  the  other  end  of  the 
scow,  where,  as  I  casually  noted,  he  stood  with 
folded  arms  looking  out  over  the  water.  A  scarlet 
feather  stuck  foppishly  in  his  dark  cap  became 
him  very  well ;  and  I  could  not  but  account  him 
a  proper  figure  of  a  man,  though  somewhat  short. 

Presently,  at  a  pause  in  our  talk,  he  turned  and 


90  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

approached  us.  To  my  astonishment  he  wore  a 
civil  smile. 

"  I  was  in  the  wrong  this  morning,  Monsieur 
Grande,"  he  said,  in  a  hearty,  frank  voice  such  as 
I  like,  though  well  I  know  it  is  no  certificate  of  an 
honest  heart.  "  I  interfered  in  a  gentleman's 
private  business ;  and  though  your  rebuke  was 
something  more  sharp  than  I  could  have  wished, 
I  deserved  it.  Allow  me  to  make  my  apologies." 

Now  it  is  one  of  my  weaknesses  that  I  can 
scarce  resist  the  devil  himself  if  he  speaks  me 
fair  and  seeks  to  make  amends. 

"Well,"  said  I  reluctantly,  "we  will  forget  the 
incident,  monsieur,  if  it  please  you.  I  cannot  but 
honour  a  brave  man  always  ;  and  you  could  not  but 
speak  up  for  your  captain,  he  not  being  by  to 
speak  for  himself.  My  opinion  of  him  I  will  keep 
behind  my  teeth  out  of  deference  to  your  pres- 
ence." 

"  That's  fair,  monsieur,"  said  he,  apparently 
quite  content.  "  And  I  will  keep  my  nose  out  of 
another  gentleman's  business.  My  way  lies  to 
Canard.  May  I  hope  for  the  honour  of  your  com- 
pany on  the  road  —  since  fate,  however  rudely, 
has  thrown  us  together?" 

Another  weakness  of  mine  is  to  be  uselessly 
frank  —  to  resent  even  politic  concealment.  Here 
was  one  whom  I  knew  for  an  enemy.  I  spoke 
him  the  plain  truth  with  a  childish  carelessness. 


"  I  have  affairs  both  at  Canard  and  at  Pereau," 
said  I.  "  But  I  know  not  if  I  shall  get  so  far  as 
the  latter  to-night." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  "  I  might  have  known  as  much. 
Father  La  Game  will  lie  at  Pereau  to-night,  and  I 
am  to  meet  Captain  Vaurin  there." 

I  turned  upon  him  fiercely,  but  his  face  was  so 
devoid  of  malice  that  my  resentment  somehow 
stuck  in  my  throat.  Seeing  it  in  my  face,  how- 
ever, he  made  haste  to  apologize. 

"  Pardon  me,  monsieur,  if  I  imply  too  much,  or 
again  trespass  upon  your  private  matters,"  he 
exclaimed  courteously.  "  But  you  will  surely 
allow  that,  in  view  of  your  late  visit  to  Piziquid, 
my  mistake  is  a  not  unnatural  one." 

I  was  forced  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of  this. 

"  But  be  pleased  to  remember  that  it  is  none 
the  less  a  mistake,"  said  I  with  emphasis,  "  and 
one  that  is  peculiarly  distasteful  to  me." 

"  Assuredly,  monsieur,"  he  assented  most  civ- 
illy. And  by  this  we  were  at  the  landing.  As 
we  stepped  off  I  turned  for  a  final  word  with 
Ba'tiste ;  and  he,  while  giving  me  account  of  a 
new  road  to  the  Canard,  shorter  than  the  old  trail, 
managed  to  convey  a  whispered  warning  that  my 
companion  was  not  to  be  trusted. 

"  It  is  Le  Furet,"  he  said,  as  if  that  explained. 

"  That's  all  right,  my  friend,"  I  laughed  confi- 
dently. "  I  know  all  about  that." 


92  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Then  I  turned  up  the  new  road,  striding  amica- 
bly by  the  side  of  my  late  antagonist,  and  busily 
wondering  how  I  was  to  be  rid  of  him  without 
a  rudeness. 

But  I  might  have  spared  myself  this  foolish 
solicitude ;  for  presently,  coming  to  a  little  lane 
which  led  up  to  a  fair  house  behind  some  willows, 
he  remarked : 

"  I  will  call  here,  monsieur,  while  you  are  visit- 
ing at  Machault's  yonder ;  and  will  join  you,  if  I 
may,  the  other  side  of  the  pasture." 

With  the  word  he  had  bowed  himself  off,  leaving 
me  wondering  mightily  how  he  knew  I  was  bound 
for  Simon  Machault's  —  as  in  truth  I  was,  on  mat- 
ters pertaining  to  my  uncle's  rents.  I  was  sure 
I  had  made  no  mention  of  Machault,  and  I  was 
nettled  that  the  fellow  should  so  appear  to  divine 
my  affairs.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  question  him 
sharply  on  the  matter  when  he  should  rejoin  me. 

But  I  was  to  see  no  more  of  him  that  day. 
After  a  pleasant  interview  with  Machault,  whence 
I  departed  with  my  pockets  the  heavier  for  some 
rentals  paid  ungrudgingly  to  the  Sieur  de  Briart,  I 
continued  my  way  alone,  my  mind  altogether  at 
ease  as  to  the  house  of  De  Lamourie,  since  I  had 
learned  that  the  Black  Abbe  and  the  blacker 
Vaurin  would  lie  that  night  at  Pereau.  Then 
suddenly,  as  I  was  about  to  turn  into  the  yard  of 
another  farmhouse,  one  of  those  strange  things 


Le  Fftret  at  the  Ferry  93 

happened  which  we  puzzle  over  for  a  time  and  after- 
ward set  down  among  the  unaccountable.  Some 
force,  within  or  without,  turned  me  sharp  about 
and  faced  me  back  toward  Grand  Pre.  Before  I 
realized  at  all  what  I  was  up  to,  I  was  retracing 
my  steps  toward  the  ferry.  But  with  an  effort  I 
stopped  to  take  counsel  with  myself. 


Chapter     XIII 
Unwilling  to  be  Wise 

AT  first  I  was  for  mocking  and  laughing  down 
so  blind  a  propulsion,  but  then  the  thought 
that  it  was  in  some  sort  an  outward  expression  of 
my  great  desire  for  Yvonne  compelled  me  to  take 
it  with  sobriety.  Possibly,  indeed,  it  meant  that 
she  was  thinking  of  me,  needing  me  even,  at  the 
moment;  and  at  this  I  sprang  forward  in  fierce 
haste  lest  I  should  be  too  late  for  the  ferry.  I 
was  not  going  to  follow  blindly  an  impulse  which 
I  could  not  quite  comprehend.  I  would  not  be  a 
plaything  of  whims  and  vapours.  But  I  would  so 
far  yield  as  to  get  safely  upon  the  Grand  Pre  side 
of  the  river,  pay  a  visit  or  two  there  which  I  had 
intended  deferring  to  next  day,  and  return  to  De 
Lamourie's  about  bed-time,  too  late  to  invite 
another  rebuff  from  Yvonne.  This  compromise 
gave  me  peace  of  mind,  but  did  not  delay  my 
pace.  I  was  back  at  the  ferry  in  a  few  minutes, 
in  time  to  see  old  yellow  Ba'tiste  fastening  up  the 
scow  as  a  sign  that  ferrying  was  over  till  next  tide. 

94 


Unwilling  to  be  Wise  95 

I  rushed  down  to  him  with  a  vehemence  which 
left  no  need  of  words.  Dashing  through  the  water- 
side strip  of  red  and  glistening  mud  I  sprang 
upon  the  scow,  and  cried : 

"  If  ever  you  loved  me,  Ba'tiste,  —  if  ever  you 
loved  my  father  before  me,  —  one  more  trip!  I 
must  be  in  Grand  Pre  to-night  if  I  have  to 
swim  !  " 

His  lean,  yellow,  weather-tanned  face  wrinkled 
shrewdly,  and  he  cast  off  again  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  saying  heartily  as  he  did  so : 

"  If  it  only  depended  on  what  /  could  do  for 
you,  Master  Paul,  your  will  and  your  way  would 
right  soon  meet." 

"  I  always  knew  I  could  count  on  you,  Ba'tiste," 
said  I  warmly,  watching  with  satisfaction  the 
tawny  breadth  of  water  widen  out  between  the 
shore  and  the  rear  of  the  scow,  as  the  ferryman 
strained  rhythmically  upon  the  great  oar.  I 
sniffed  deep  breaths  of  the  cool,  contenting  air 
which  blew  with  a  salty  bitterness  from  the  uncov- 
ering flats ;  and  I  dimly  imagined  then  what  now 
I  know,  that  when  the  breath  of  the  tide  flats  has 
got  into  one's  veins  at  birth  he  must  make  fre- 
quent return  to  them  in  after-life,  or  his  strength 
will  languish. 

"  So  you  got  wind,  Master  Paul,  of  Le  Furet's 
return,  and  thought  well  to  keep  on  his  track, 
eh?"  panted  Ba'tiste. 


96  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked,  awakened 
from  my  reverie. 

"  Didn't  you  know  he  came  right  back,  as  soon 
as  he  give  you  the  slip?"  asked  Ba'tiste.  "I 
ferried  him  over  again  not  an  hour  gone." 

"  Why,"  I  cried  in  surprise,  "  I  thought  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  Black  Abbe !  " 

Ba'tiste  smiled  wisely. 

"  He  lied  !  "  said  he.  "  You  don't  know  that 
lot  yet,  Master  Paul.  I  saw  you  listened  careless- 
like,  but  I  thought  you  knew  that  was  all  lies  about 
the  Black  Abbe  and  Vaurin  being  at  Pereau.  If 
they'd  been  at  Pereau  '  The  Ferret '  would  ha' 
said  they  were  at  Piziquid." 

"  I'm  an  ass  !  "  I  exclaimed  bitterly. 

Ba'tiste  laughed. 

"That's  not  the  name  you  get  hereabouts, 
Master  Paul.  But  I  reckon  you've  been  used  to 
dealing  with  honest  men." 

"  I  believe  I  do  trust  too  easily,  my  friend,"  said 
I.  "  But  one  thing  I  know,  and  that  is  this :  I 
will  make  never  a  mistake  in  trusting  you,  and 
some  other  faithful  friends  whom  I  might  name." 

This  seemed  to  Ba'tiste  too  obvious  to  need 
reply,  so  he  merely  wished  me  good  fortune  as  I 
sprang  ashore  and  made  haste  up  the  trail. 

I  made  haste  —  but  alas,  not  back  toward  Grand 
Pre !  In  the  bitter  after-days  I  had  leisure  to 
curse  the  obstinate  folly  which  led  me  to  carry 


Unwilling  to  be  Wise  97 

out  my  plan  of  delay  instead  of  hurrying  straight 
to  Yvonne's  side.  But  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
that  the  best  time  to  return  to  De  Lamourie's  was 
about  the  end  of  evening  —  and  my  dull  wits 
failed  to  see  in  Le  Furet's  action  any  sufficient 
cause  to  change  my  plans.  It  never  occurred  to 
me,  conceited  fool  that  I  was,  that  the  causes 
which  had  swayed  the  Black  Abbe  to  my  will  the 
night  before  might  in  the  meantime  have  ceased 
to  work.  Even  had  this  idea  succeeded  in  pene- 
trating my  thick  apprehension,  I  suppose  it  would 
have  made  no  difference.  I  should  have  felt  sure 
that  the  abbe's  scoundrel  crew  would  choose  none 
but  the  dim  hours  after  midnight  for  anything 
their  malice  might  intend.  The  fact  is,  I  had  been 
yielding  to  inauthoritative  impulses  and  vague 
premonitions  till  the  reaction  had  set  in,  deter- 
mining me  to  be  at  all  costs  coolly  reasonable. 
Now  Fortune  with  her  fine  irony  loves  to  empha- 
size the  fact  that  the  slave  of  reason  often  proves 
the  most  pitiable  of  fools.  Such  was  I  when  I 
turned  to  my  right  from  the  ferry,  and  strode 
through  the  scented,  leafy  dusk  to  the  open  flax- 
fields  of  the  Le  Marchand  settlement,  though  the 
disregarded  monitor  within  me  was  urging  that  I 
should  turn  to  the  left,  through  the  old  beech 
woods,  to  Grand  Pre  —  and  Yvonne. 

The  Le  Marchand  settlement  in  those  days  con- 
sisted of  six  little  farms,  each  with   its  strip   of 


98  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

upland  flax-field  and  apple-orchard,  and  a  bit  of 
rich,  secluded  dyke  held  in  common.  All  the  Le 
Marchands  —  father  and  five  sons  —  still  owned 
their  hereditary  allegiance  to  the  Sieur  de  Briart, 
and  paid  him  their  little  rents  as  occasion  offered. 
My  welcome  was  not  such  as  is  commonly  accorded 
to  the  tax-gatherer.  These  retainers  of  my  uncle's 
made  me  feel  that  I  was  myself  their  seigneur ;  and 
their  rents,  paid  voluntarily  and  upon  their  own 
reckonings,  were  in  effect  a  love-gift.  I  supped  — 
chiefly  upon  buckwheat  cakes  —  at  the  cottage  of 
Le  Marchand  pere,  and  then,  dark  having  fallen 
softly  upon  the  quiet  fields,  I  set  out  at  a  gentle 
pace  for  Grand  Pre"  village. 

Soon  after  I  got  into  the  still  dark  of  the  woods 
the  moon  rose  clear  of  the  Gaspereau  hills,  and 
thrust  long  white  fingers  toward  me  through  the 
leafage.  The  silence  and  the  pale,  elusive  lights 
presently  got  a  grip  upon  my  mood,  and  my 
anxieties  doubled,  and  trebled,  and  crowded  upon 
each  other,  till  I  found  myself  walking  at  a  breath- 
less pace,  just  the  hither  side  of  a  run.  I  stopped 
short,  with  a  laugh  of  vexation,  and  forced  myself 
to  go  moderately. 

I  was  perhaps  half  way  to  Grand  Pre,  and  in  the 
deepest  gloom  of  the  woods,  —  a  little  dip  where 
scarce  a  moonbeam  came,  —  when,  with  a  sudden- 
ness that  gave  even  my  seasoned  nerves  a  start,  a 
tall  figure  stood  noiselessly  before  me. 


Unwilling  to  be  Wise  99 

I  clapped  my  hand  upon  my  sword  and  asked 
angrily: 

"Who  are  you?  " 

But  even  as  I  spoke  I  knew  the  apparition  for 
Grul.  I  laughed,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Pardon  me,  Mysterious  One.  And  pray  tell  me 
why  you  are  come,  for  I  am  in  some  haste  !  " 

"Haste?"  he  reechoed,  with  biting  scorn. 
"Where  was  your  haste  two  hours  ago?  Fool, 
poor  fool,  staying  to  fill  your  belly  and  wag  your 
chin  with  the  clod-hoppers  !  You  are  even  now 
too  late." 

"  Too  late  for  what?  "  I  asked  blankly,  shaken 
with  a  nameless  fear. 

"  Come  and  see  !  "  was  the  curt  answer ;  and  he 
led  the  way  forward  to  a  little  knoll,  whence,  the 
trees  having  fallen  apart,  could  be  had  a  view  of 
Grand  Pre. 

There  was  a  red  light  wavering  at  the  back  of 
the  village,  and  against  it  the  gables  stood  out 
blackly. 

"  I  think  you  promised  to  guard  that  house  !  " 
said  Grul. 

But  I  had  no  answer.  With  a  cry  of  rage  and 
horror  I  was  away,  running  at  the  top  of  my  speed. 
The  Abbe's  stroke  had  fallen;  and  I  —  with  a 
sickness  that  clutched  my  heart  —  saw  that  my 
absence  might  well  be  set  down  to  treachery. 


Chapter  XIV 
Love  Me,  Love  my  Dog 

AS  I  emerged  from  the  woods  I  noted  that  the 
glare  was  greater  than  before.  But  before 
I  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village  it  had 
begun  to  die  down.  My  wild  running  up  the 
main  street  attracted  no  attention  —  every  one 
able  to  be  about  was  at  the  fire. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  I  was  not  long  in  covering 
those  two  miles  from  the  western  end  of  the 
village  to  the  De  Lamourie  farm  —  but  to  me  they 
seemed  leagues  of  torment.  At  last  I  reached  the 
gate,  and  dashed  panting  up  the  lane. 

I  saw  that  the  house  was  already  in  ruins,  though 
still  burning  with  a  fierce  glow.  I  saw  also,  and 
wondered  at  it,  that  there  had  been  no  attempt 
made  to  quench  the  flames.  There  were  no  water 
buckets  in  view ;  there  was  no  confusion  of  house- 
hold goods  as  when  willing  hands  throng  to  help ; 
and  the  out-buildings,  which  might  easily  have 
been  saved,  were  only  now  getting  fairly  into 
blaze.  Across  my  confusion  and  pain  there  flashed 


Love  Me,  Love  my  Dog          101 

a  sense  of  the  Black  Abbe's  power.  This  fire  was 
his  doing  —  and  none  dared  interfere  to  mitigate 
the  stroke  lest  the  like  should  fall  upon  them  also. 
My  eyes  searched  the  mass  of  staring,  redly  lit  faces, 
expecting  to  find  some  one  of  the  De  Lamourie 
household ;  but  in  vain.  Presently  I  noticed  that 
every  one  made  way  for  me  with  an  alacrity  too 
prompt  for  mere  respect ;  and  I  grew  dully  con- 
scious that  I  was  an  object  of  shrinking  aversion 
to  my  old  fellow-villagers.  My  rage  at  the  villain 
priest  began  to  turn  upon  these  misjudging  fools. 
But  I  knew  not  what  to  say ;  I  knew  not  what  to  do. 
I  pushed  roughly  hither  and  thither,  demanding 
information,  but  getting  only  vague  and  muttered 
replies. 

"Where  are  they?  "  I  asked  again  and  again, 
and  broke  out  cursing  furiously;  but  every  one  I 
spoke  to  evaded  a  direct  answer. 

"  Have  that  arch  fiend  and  his  red  devils  carried 
them  off?"  I  asked  at  last;  and  to  this  I  got 
hushed,  astonished,  terrified  replies  of — 

"  No,  monsieur  !  "  and,  "  No  indeed,  monsieur  ! 
They  have  escaped  !  "  and,  "  Oh,  but  no,  mon- 
sieur !  " 

Flinging  myself  fiercely  away  from  the  crowd,  I 
rushed  to  look  into  a  detached  two-story  out- 
building which  had  but  now  got  fairly  burning.  I 
wondered  if  there  were  no  stuff  in  it  which  I  might 
rescue.  The  smoke  and  flame  were  pouring  so 


IO2  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

hotly  from  the  door  that  I  could  not  see  what  was 
inside.  But  as  I  peered  in,  my  face  shaded  with 
my  hand  from  the  scorching  glare,  I  heard  a  faint, 
pitiful  mewing  just  above  me,  and  looked  up. 

There,  on  the  sill  of  a  window  of  the  second  story, 
.a  window  from  which  came  volumes  of  smoke,  but 
of  flame  only  a  slender,  darting  tongue,  crouched 
a  white  kitten.  With  a  curious  gripping  at  my 
heart  I  recognized  it  as  one  which  I  had  seen  play- 
ing at  Yvonne's  feet  the  evening  before.  I  remem- 
bered how  it  was  forever  pouncing  with  wild  glee 
upon  the  tip  of  her  little  slipper,  forever  being 
gently  rolled  over  and  tickled  into  fresh  ecstasies. 
The  scene  cut  itself  upon  my  brain  as  I  ran  for  a 
yet  undamaged  ladder,  which  I  noticed  leaning 
against  a  shed  near  by. 

The  action  doubtless  filled  the  crowd  with 
amazement,  but  no  one  raised  a  hand  to  help 
me.  The  ladder  was  long  and  very  awkward  to 
manage,  but  in  little  more  than  the  time  it  takes 
to  tell  of  it  I  got  it  up  beside  the  window  and 
sprang  to  the  rescue.  By  this  time,  however,  the 
flames  were  spouting  forth.  The  moment  I  came 
within  reach  of  it  the  little  animal  leapt  upon  me 
and  clung  with  frantic  claws.  A  vivid  sheet  of 
flame  burst  out  in  my  very  face,  hurling  me  from 
the  ladder ;  yet  I  succeeded  in  alighting  on  my 
feet,  jarred,  but  whole.  There  was  a  smell  of 
burnt  hair  in  my  nostrils,  and  I  saw  that  the 


Love  Me,  Love  my  Dog          103 

kitten's  coat,  no  longer  white,  was  finely  crisped. 
But  what  I  smelt  was  not  all  kitten's  hair.  Lifting 
my  hand  to  my  bitterly  smarting  face,  I  found  my 
own  locks,  over  my  forehead,  seriously  diminished, 
while  my  once  fairly  abundant  eyebrows  and  eye- 
lashes were  clean  gone.  My  moustache,  however, 
had  escaped  —  and  even  at  that  moment,  when  my 
mind  was  surely  well  occupied  with  matters  of 
importance,  I  could  feel  a  thrill  of  satisfaction.  A 
man's  vanity  is  liable  to  assert  itself  at  almost  any 
crisis ;  and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  a  man 
lacking  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  could  not  hope 
to  be  redeemed  from  the  ridiculous  by  the  most 
luxuriant  moustache  that  ever  grew. 

Half  dazed,  I  stared  about  me,  wondering  what 
was  next  to  be  done.  Suddenly  I  thought  — 
"  Why,  of  course ;  they  have  gone  to  Father 
Fafard's !  " 

The  kitten  clung  to  me,  mewing  piteously,  and 
I  was  embarrassed  by  it.  First  I  dropped  it  into 
a  large  currant  bush,  where,  as  I  thought,  it  would 
not  be  trodden  upon.  Then,  remembering  that  it 
was  Yvonne's,  I  snatched  it  up,  and  with  a  grim 
laugh  at  the  folly  of  my  solicitude  over  so  small  a 
matter  strode  off  with  it  toward  the  parsonage.  I 
passed  in  front  of  the  swaying  crowd ;  and  some 
one,  out  of  sight,  tittered.  I  had  begun  to  forget 
the  fool  rabble  of  villagers,  —  to  regard  them  as  a 
painted  mob  in  a  picture,  or  as  wooden  puppets, — 


104  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

but  their  reality  was  borne  back  upon  me  at  that 
giggle.  I  walked  on,  scowling  upon  the  faces 
which  shrank  into  gravity  under  my  eye,  till  at 
last  I  noticed  a  kind-looking  girl.  Into  her  arms, 
without  ceremony,  I  thrust  the  little  animal ;  and 
as  she  took  it  I  said : 

"  It  belongs  to  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie. 
Take  care  of  it  for  her." 

Not  waiting  to  hear  her  answer,  I  was  off  across 
the  fields  for  the  parsonage. 


A 


Chapter  XV 
Ashes  as  it  were  Bread 

LL  this  had  come  and  gone  as  it  were  in  a 
dream,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  yet 
panted  from  my  long  race.  I  had  seen  nothing, 
meanwhile,  of  the  Black  Abbe  or  of  his  painted 
pack.  Spies,  however,  he  had  doubtless  in  plenty 
among  those  gaping  onlookers ;  and  his  devilish 
work  yet  lighted  me  effectually  on  my  way  across 
the  wet  fields.  The  glow  was  like  great  patches 
of  blood  upon  the  apple-trees,  where  the  masses 
of  bloom  fairly  fronted  the  light.  The  hedge- 
row thickets  took  on  a  ruddy  bronze,  a  spar- 
kle here  and  there  as  a  wet  leaf  set  the  un- 
wonted rays  rebounding.  The  shadows  were 
sharply  black,  and  strangely  misleading  when  they 
found  themselves  at  odds  with  those  cast  by  the 
moon.  The  scene,  as  I  hastened  over  the  quiet 
back  lots,  was  like  the  unreal  phantasmagoria  of  a 
dream.  I  found  myself  playing  with  the  idea 
that  it  all  was  a  dream,  from  my  meeting  with  old 
Mother  P£che  here — yes,  in  this  very  field  —  the 


io6  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

night  before  to  the  present  breathless  haste  and 
wild  surmising.  Then  the  whole  bitter  reality 
seemed  to  topple  over,  and  fall  upon  me  and  crush 
me  down.  Not  only  was  Yvonne  pledged  to 
another,  but  through  grossest  over-confidence  I 
had  failed  her  in  her  need,  and  worst  of  all,  the 
thought  that  made  my  heart  beat  shakingly,  she 
believed  me  a  traitor.  It  forced  a  groan  to  my 
lips,  but  I  ran  on,  and  presently  emerged  upon 
the  lane  a  few  paces  from  Father  Fafard's  gate. 

As  I  turned  in  the  good  priest  came  and  stood 
in  the  doorway,  peering  down  the  lane  with  anx- 
ious eyes.  Seeing  me,  he  sprang  forward  and 
began  to  speak,  but  I  interrupted  him,  crying: 

"  Are  they  here?     I  must  see  them." 

"  They  will  not  see  you,  Paul.  They  would 
curse  you  and  shut  their  ears.  They  believe  you 
did  it." 

"  But  you,  father,  you"  I  pleaded,  "  can  un- 
deceive them.  Come  with  me."  And  I  grasped 
him  vehemently  by  the  arm. 

But  he  shook  me  off,  with  a  sort  of  anxious 
impatience. 

"  Of  course,  Paul,  I  know  you  did  not  do  it. 
I  know  you,  as  she  would,  too,  if  she  loved  you," 
he  cried,  in  a  voice  made  high  and  thin  by  excite- 
ment. "  I  will  tell  them  you  are  true.  But  — 
where  is  Yvonne?"  And  he  pushed  past  me  to 
the  gate,  where  he  paused  irresolutely. 


Ashes  as  it  were  Bread  107 

"Don't  tell  me  she  is  not  with  you  !  "  I  cried. 

"  She  ran  out  a  minute  ago,  not  telling  us  what 
she  was  going  to  do,"  he  answered. 

"But  what  for?  What  made  her?  She  must 
have  had  some  reason!  What  was  it?"  I  de- 
manded, becoming  cold  and  stern  as  I  noted  how 
his  nerves  were  shaken. 

He  collected  himself  with  a  visible  effort,  and  then 
looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  slow  pity. 

"  I  had  but  now  come  in,"  said  he,  "  and  thought- 
lessly I  told  Madame  a  word  just  caught  in  the 
crowd.  You  know  that  evil  savage,  Etienne  le 
Batard.  Or  you  don't,  I  see  ;  but  he's  the  red  right- 
hand  of  La  Game,  and  it  was  he  executed  yonder 
outrage.  As  he  was  leading  his  cut-throats  away 
in  haste,  plainly  upon  another  malignant  enterprise, 
I  heard  him  tell  one  of  my  parishioners  what  he 
would  do.  The  man  is  suspected  of  a  leaning  to 
the  English;  and  the  savage  said  to  him  with 
significance : 

"  '  I  go  now  to  Kenneticook,  to  the  yellow-haired 
English  Anderson.  Neither  he  nor  his  house  will 
see  another  sun.' 

"  I  had  thought  perhaps  you  were  right,  Paul, 
and  that  Yvonne  had  promised  herself  to  the 
Englishman  more  in  esteem  than  love ;  but  she 
cried  out,  with  a  piteous,  shaken  voice,  that  he 
must  be  warned  —  that  some  one  must  go  to  him 
and  save  him.  With  that  she  rushed  from  the 


io8  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

house,  and  we  have  not  seen  her  since.  But  stay 
—  what  have  you  said  or  done  to  her,  Paul?  Now 
that  I  see  her  face  again,  I  see  remorse  in  it.  What 
have  you  done  to  her?  " 

I  made  no  answer  to  this  sharp  question,  it 
being  irrelevant  and  my  haste  urgent.  But  I 
demanded : 

"  Where  could  she  go  for  help?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  "  unless,  perhaps, 
to  the  landing." 

"The  tide  is  pretty  low,"  said  I,  pondering, 
"  but  the  wind  serves  well  enough  for  the  Piziquid 
mouth.  Where  do  you  suppose  the  savages  left 
their  canoes?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  he  positively,  "  well  up  on  the 
Piziquid  shore,  without  doubt.  They  came  over 
on  the  upper  trail,  and  they  must  be  now  hurrying 
back  the  same  way.  They  cannot  get  up  the  Ken- 
neticook,  by  that  route,  till  a  little  before  dawn." 

"  I  have  time,  then !  "  I  exclaimed,  and  rushed 
away. 

"Where  are  you  going?  Paul!  Paul!  What 
will  you  do?"  he  cried  after  me. 

"I  will  save  him  !  "  I  shouted  as  I  went.  "  Come 
you  down  to  the  landing,  the  Gaspereau  wharf, 
and  get  Yvonne  if  she's  there." 

Glancing  back,  I  saw  that  he  followed  me. 

My  heart  was  surging  with  gratitude  to  God  for 
this  chance.  I  vowed  to  save  Anderson,  though  it 


Ashes  as  it  were  Bread  109 

cost  me  my  own  life.  If  Yvonne  loved  him  she 
should  then  owe  her  happiness  to  me.  If  she  did 
not  love  him  she  would  see  that  I  was  quite  other 
than  the  traitor  she  imagined.  Strange  to  say,  I 
felt  no  bitterness  against  her  for  so  misjudging  me. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  my  folly  had  been  so  great 
that  I  had  deserved  to  be  misjudged.  But  now, 
here  was  my  opportunity.  I  swore  under  my 
breath  that  it  should  not  slip  from  my  grasp. 

It  was  a  good  two-thirds  of  a  mile  from  the 
parsonage  to  the  wharf,  and  I  had  time  to  scheme 
as  I  ran.  I  thought  at  once  of  Nicole,  the  smith, 
—  of  his  boat,  and  his  brawn,  and  his  loyal 
fidelity.  His  boat  would  assuredly  be  at  the 
wharf,  but  where  should  I  find  his  brawn  and 
his  fidelity? 

At  his  cottage,  beside  the  forge,  I  stopped  to 
ask  for  him. 

"  At  the  fire,  monsieur,"  quavered  his  old 
mother,  poking  a  troubled  face  from  the  window 
in  answer  to  my  thundering  on  the  door.  "  What 
would  you  with  him?  Do  not  lead  him  into  harm, 
Master  Paul !  " 

But  I  was  off  without  answering ;  and  the  poor, 
creaking,  worried  old  voice  followed  in  my  ears : 

"  He  takes  no  sides.  He  hurts  no  one,  Master 
Paul !  " 

Passing  the  De  Lamourie  gate  I  paused  to  shout 
at  the  height  of  my  lungs : 


no  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Nicole  !  Nicole  Brun  !  I  want  you  !  Nicole  ! 
Nicole !  " 

"  Coming,  Master  Paul !  "  was  the  prompt 
reply,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  crowd ;  and  in  a 
moment  the  active,  thick-set  form  appeared,  bare- 
headed as  usual,  for  I  had  never  known  Nicole  to 
cover  his  black  shock  with  cap  or  hat. 

I  was  leaning  on  the  fence  to  get  my  breath. 

"  You  were  there,  Nicole,  when  I  was  looking 
for  a  friend  ? "  said  I,  eying  him  with  sharp 
question  and  reproach  as  he  came  up. 

"  You  did  not  seem  to  need  any  one  just  then, 
Master  Paul ;  leastwise,  no  one  that  was  there- 
abouts," he  answered,  with  a  sheepish  mixture  of 
bantering  and  apology. 

I  ignored  both.     I  knew  him  to  be  true. 

"  Will  you  come  with  me,  right  now,  Nicole 
Brun  ? "  I  asked,  starting  off  again  toward  the 
river. 

"  You  know  I  will,  Master  Paul,"  said  he,  close 
at  my  side.  "  But  where?  What  are  we  up  to?  " 

"  The  boat !  "  said  I.  "  The  wind  serves.  I'm 
going  to  the  Kenneticook  to  warn  Anderson  that 
the  Black  Abbe  is  to  cut  his  throat  this  night !  " 

I  turned  and  looked  him  in  the  eyes  as  I  spoke. 

His  long,  determined  upper  lip  drew  down  at 
my  words,  but  his  little  grey  eyes  flashed  upon 
mine  a  half-resigned,  half-humorous  acquiescence. 

"  It's  risky,  Master  Paul.     And  no  good,  like  as 


Ashes  as  it  were  Bread  1 1 1 

not,"  he  answered.  "  We'll  be  just  about  in  time 
to  get  our  own  throats  slit,  I'm  thinking,  —  to  say 
nothing  of  the  hair,"  he  added,  rubbing  his  crown 
with  rueful  apprehension. 

"  Let  me  have  your  boat,  and  I  go  alone,"  said 
I  curtly.  But  I  was  sure  of  him  nevertheless. 

"  I'm  with  you,  sure,  Master  Paul,  if  you  will 
go,"  he  rejoined.  "  And  maybe  it's  worth  while 
to  disturb  his  reverence's  plans,  if  it  be  only  an 
Englishman  that  we're  taking  so  much  trouble 
about." 

"  We  must  and  shall  save  him,  Nicole,"  I  said, 
as  deliberately  as  my  panting  breath  would  permit, 
"  or  I  will  die  in  the  trying.  He  is  betrothed  to 
Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie,  you  know." 

"  /  should  say,  rather,  let  him  die  for  her,  that  a 
better  man  may  live  for  her,"  he  retorted  shrewdly. 
"  But  as  you  will,  Master  Paul,  of  course !  " 

In  the  privacy  of  my  own  heart  I  thought 
extremely  well  of  Nicole's  discrimination ;  but  I 
said  nothing,  for  by  this  we  were  come  to  the 
wharf;  and  I  saw  —  Yvonne! 


Chapter  XVI 
The  Way  of  a  Maid 

ALMOST  to  her  side  I  came  before  she  was 
aware  of  me,  so  intent  she  was  upon  her 
purpose.  Two  men  of  the  village,  fishermen  whom 
I  knew,  she  had  summoned  to  her,  and  was  passion- 
ately urging  them  to  take  her  to  Kenneticook. 
But  for  all  her  beauty,  her  enthralling  charm,  they 
hung  back  doggedly  —  being  but  dull  clods,  and 
in  a  shaking  terror  at  the  very  name  of  the  Black 
Abbe.  It  passed  my  comprehension  that  they 
should  have  any  power  at  all  when  those  wonder- 
ful eyes  burned  upon  them.  Never  had  I  seen  her 
so  beautiful  as  then,  her  face  wild  with  entreaty, 
her  bewildering  hair  half  fallen  about  her  shoulders. 
A  white,  soft-falling  shawl,  such  as  I  had  never  be- 
fore seen  her  wear,  was  flung  about  her,  and  one 
little  hand  with  its  live,  restless  fingers  clutched 
the  fabric  closely  to  her  throat,  as  if  she  had  been 
disturbed  at  her  toilet. 

I  was  about  to  interrupt  her,  for  there  was  no 
moment  to  lose  if  I  would  accomplish  my  purpose ; 


The  Way  of  a  Maid  113 

but  of  a  sudden  she  seemed  to  realize  the  hope- 
lessness of  her  effort  to  move  these  stolid  fish- 
ermen. Flinging  out  her  arms  with  a  gesture 
of  bitterness  and  despair,  she  cried,  pointing  to 
Nicole's  boat : 

"  Push  off  the  boat,  you  cowards,  and  I  will  go 
alone !  " 

And  turning  upon  the  word  she  found  herself 
face  to  face  with  me. 

Even  in  that  light  I  could  see  her  lips  go  ashen, 
and  for  a  moment  I  thought  she  would  drop.  I 
sprang  to  catch  her,  but  she  recovered,  and  shrank 
in  a  kind  of  speechless  fury  from  my  touch.  Then 
she  found  words  for  me,  dreadful  words  for  me  to 
hear  : 

"  Traitor  !  Assassin  !  Still  you  to  persecute 
and  thwart  me.  It  is  you  they  fear.  It  is  you  who 
plan  the  murder  of  that  good  and  true  man — you 
who  will  not  let  me  go  to  warn  him  !  "  Then  her 
voice  broke  into  a  wilder,  more  beseeching  tone : 
"  Oh,  if  you  have  one  spark  of  shame,  remember! 
Let  them  push  off  the  boat ;  and  let  me  go,  that  I 
may  try  to  save  him !  " 

Her  reproaches  hurt  me  not,  but  what  seemed 
her  passion  for  him  steadied  me  and  made  me 
hard. 

"  You  are  mad,  mademoiselle ! "  I  answered 
sternly.  "  I  am  going  to  save  him." 

"  As  you  have  saved  our  house  to-night !  "  she 


114  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

cried,  with  a  laugh  that  went  through  me  like  a 
sword. 

"  I  was  outwitted  by  my  enemies  —  and  yours, 
mademoiselle.  I  go  now  to  warn  him.  Pushdown 
the  boat,  men.  Haste !  Haste !  "  I  ordered, 
turning  from  her. 

But  she  came  close  in  front  of  me,  her  great  eyes 
blazed  up  in  my  face,  and  she  cried,  "  You  go  to 
see  that  he  does  not  escape  your  hate !  " 

"  Listen,  mademoiselle,"  I  said  sharply.  "  I 
swear  to  you  by  the  mother  of  God  that  you  have 
utterly  misjudged  me !  I  am  no  traitor.  I  have 
been  a  fool;  or  my  sword  would  have  been  at 
your  father's  side  to-night.  I  swear  to  you  that  I 
go  now  to  expiate  my  mistake  by  saving  your  lover 
for  you. " 

The  first  wave  of  doubt  as  to  my  treason  came 
into  her  eyes  at  this  ;  but  her  lips  curled  in  bitter 
unbelief.  Before  she  could  speak,  I  went  on : 

"  I  swear  to  you  by  —  by  the  soul  of  my  dead 
mother  I  will  save  George  Anderson  or  die  fighting 
beside  him !  You  shall  have  your  lover,"  I 
added,  as  I  stepped  toward  the  boat,  which  was 
now  fairly  afloat  on  the  swirling  current.  Nicole 
was  hoisting  the  sail,  while  one  of  the  fishermen 
held  the  boat's  prow. 

I  think  Yvonne's  heart  believed  me  now,  though 
her  excited  brain  was  as  yet  but  partially  con- 
vinced, or  even,  perhaps,  as  I  have  sometimes 


The  Way  of  a  Maid  115 

dared  to  think  in  the  light  of  her  later  actions, 
another  motive,  quite  unrealized  by  herself,  began 
to  work  obscurely  at  the  roots  of  her  being  as  soon 
as  she  had  admitted  the  first  doubts  as  to  my 
treachery.  But  not  even  her  own  self-searching 
can  unravel  all  the  intricacies  of  a  woman's  motive. 
As  I  was  about  to  step  into  the  boat  she  passed 
me  lightly  as  a  flower  which  the  wind  lifts  and 
blows.  She  seated  herself  beside  the  mast. 

"  What  folly  is  this,  mademoiselle?"  I  asked 
angrily,  pausing  with  my  hand  upon  the  gunwale, 
and  noticing  the  astonishment  on  Nicole's  face. 

Her  mouth  set  itself  obstinately  as  her  eyes  met 
mine. 

"  I  am  going,  too,"  she  said,  "  to  see  if  you 
respect  your  mother's  soul." 

"You  cannot!"  I  cried.  "You  will  ruin  our 
only  chance.  We  must  run  miles  through  the 
woods  after  we  land,  if  we  are  to  get  there  ahead  of 
La  Game's  butchers.  You  could  not  stay  alone  at 
the  boat "  — 

"  I  can  !  "  said  she  doggedly. 

"  You  could  not  keep  up  with  us,"  I  went  on, 
unheeding  her  interruption.  "  And  if  we  delayed 
for  you  we  should  be  too  late.  Every  moment  you 
stay  us  now  may  be  the  one  to  cost  his  life." 

"  I  am  going !  "  was  all  she  said. 

I  set  my  teeth  into  my  lips.  There  was  no  alter- 
native. Stepping  quietly  into  the  boat  as  if  forced 


n6  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

to  acquiesce  in  her  decision,  with  my  left  hand  I 
caught  both  little  white  wrists  as  they  lay  crossed, 
still  for  a  moment,  in  her  lap.  I  held  them  inex- 
orably. At  the  same  time  I  passed  my  right  arm 
about  the  slim  body,  and  lifted  it.  There  was  but 
the  flutter  of  an  instant's  struggle,  its  futility  in- 
stantly recognized ;  and  then,  stepping  over  the 
boatside  with  her,  I  carried  her  to  the  edge  of 
the  wharf,  set  her  softly  down,  sprang  back  into 
the  boat,  and  pushed  off  as  I  did  so. 

"  I  will  save  him  for  you,  mademoiselle,"  I 
said,  "  and,  believe  me,  I  have  just  now  saved 
him  from  you  !  " 

But  she  made  no  answer.  She  did  not  move 
from  the  place  where  I  had  set  her  down.  There 
was  a  strange  look  on  her  face,  which  I  could  not 
fathom;  but  I  carried  it  with  me,  treasured  and 
uncomprehended,  as  the  boat  slipped  rapidly  down 
the  tide. 

As  long  as  I  could  discern  the  wharf  at  all  I 
could  see  that  white  form  moveless  at  its  edge. 
I  forgot  my  errand.  I  forgot  her  cruel  distrust.  I 
strained  my  gaze  upon  her,  and  knew  nothing  save 
that  I  loved  her. 


Chapter  XVII 
Memory  is  a  Child 

WHEN  I  could  no  longer  discern  even  the 
shore  whence  we  had  started,  I  in  a  meas- 
ure came  to  myself.  Nicole  —  sagacious  Nicole 
—  had  left  me  to  my  dream.  He  had  got  up  the 
mainsail  and  jib  unaided,  and  now  sat  like  a  statue 
at  the  tiller.  We  were  in  the  open  basin,  running 
with  a  steady  wind  abeam.  There  was  quite  a 
swell  on,  and  the  waves  looked  sinister,  cruel  as 
steel,  under  the  bare  white  moon.  A  fading  glow 
still  marked  the  spot  where  the  De  Lamourie  house 
had  stood ;  but  save  for  that  there  was  no  hint  of 
man's  hand  in  all  the  wild,  empty,  hissing,  wonder- 
ful open.  Far  to  the  left  lay  Blomidon,  a  crouch- 
ing lion ;  and  straight  ahead  a  low,  square  bluff 
guarded  the  mouth  of  the  Piziquid.  I  saw  that  we 
were  nearing  it  rapidly,  for  Nicole's  boat  had  legs. 
Once  in  the  Piziquid  mouth,  we  should  have  a  hard 
run  up  against  the  ebb ;  but  the  wind  would  then 
be  right  aft,  and  I  felt  that  we  could  stem  the  cur- 
rent and  make  our  landing  in  time. 

117 


n8  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Will  this  wind  carry  her  against  the  Piziquid 
tide?"  I  asked  Nicole.  It  was  the  first  word 
spoken  in  perhaps  an  hour,  and  my  voice  sounded 
strange  to  me. 

"  We'll  catch  the  first  of  the  flood  soon  after  we 
get  inside,  Master  Paul,"  said  he,  in  the  most  mat- 
ter-of-fact voice  in  the  world. 

Content  with  this,  and  knowing  that  for  the  time 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait,  I  lapsed  back 
into  my  reverie. 

I  felt  exhausted,  not  from  bodily  effort,  but  from 
emotion.  My  nerves  and  brain  felt  sleepy ;  yet 
nothing  was  further  from  my  eyes  than  sleep. 
Situations  and  deeds,  mental  and  physical  crises, 
agonies  and  ecstasies  and  dull  despair,  had  so 
trodden  upon  one  another's  heels  that  I  was 
breathless.  I  caught  at  my  brain,  as  it  were,  to 
make  it  keep  still  long  enough  to  think.  Yet  I 
could  not  think  to  any  purpose.  I  was  aware  of 
nothing  so  keenly  as  the  sensation  that  had  intoxi- 
cated me  as  I  held  Yvonne's  unconsenting  body 
for  those  few  moments  in  my  arms,  while  remov- 
ing her  from  the  boat.  To  have  touched  her  at 
all  against  her  will  seemed  a  sacrilege ;  but  when 
a  sacrilege  has  seemed  a  plain  necessity  I  have 
never  been  the  one  to  balk  at  it.  Now  I  found 
myself  looking  with  a  foolish  affection  at  the  arms 
which  had  been  guilty  of  that  sacrilege  —  and 
straightway,  coming  to  my  wits  again,  I  glanced  at 


Memory  is  a  Child  119 

Nicole  to  see  if  he  had  divined  the  vast  dimen- 
sions of  my  folly. 

From  this  I  passed  to  wondering  what  was  truly 
now  my  hope  or  my  despair.  During  all  my  talk 
with  Yvonne  —  from  the  moment,  indeed,  when 
Father  Fafard  had  told  me  of  her  agitation  over 
Anderson's  peril  —  I  had  been  as  one  without 
hope,  in  darkness  utterly.  Only  a  great  love  — 
the  great  love,  as  I  had  told  myself —  could  inspire 
this  desperate  and  daring  solicitude.  And  against 
the  one  great  love,  in  such  a  woman  as  Yvonne, 
I  well  knew  that  nothing  earthly  could  prevail. 
My  own  bold  resolution  had  been  formed  on  the 
theory  that  her  betrothal  was  but  the  offspring  of 
expediency  upon  respect.  Now,  however,  either 
the  remembrance  of  her  touch  deluded  me  or  some- 
thing in  her  attitude  upon  the  wharf  held  signif- 
icance, for  assuredly  I  began  to  dream  that  remorse 
rather  than  love  might  have  been  the  mainspring 
of  her  agitation ;  remorse,  and  pity,  and  some- 
thing of  that  strange  mother  passion  which  a  true 
woman  may  feel  toward  a  man  who  stirs  within 
her  none  of  the  lover  passion  at  all.  I  thought, 
too,  of  the  wild  sense  of  dishonour  she  must  feel, 
believing  me  a  traitor  and  herself  my  dupe. 
Strange  comfort  this,  of  a  surety  !  Yet  I  grasped 
at  it.  I  would  prove  her  no  dupe,  myself  no 
traitor ;  and  stand  at  last  where  I  had  stood  before, 
with  perhaps  some  advantage.  And  my  rival  — 


I2O  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

he,  I  swore,  should  owe  his  life  to  me ;  a  kind  but 
cruel  kind  of  revenge. 

At  last,  my  heart  beating  uncomfortably  from 
the  too  swift  self-chasing  of  my  thoughts,  I  stood 
up,  shook  myself,  and  looked  about  me.  We 
had  rounded  the  bluff,  and  were  standing  up  the 
broad  Piziquid  straight  before  the  wind ;  and  the 
boat  was  pitching  hotly  in  the  short  seas  where 
the  wind  thwarted  the  tide.  I  glanced  at  Nicole's 
face.  It  was  as  plaintively  placid  as  if  he  dreamed 
of  the  days  when  he  leaned  at  his  mother's  knee. 

But  the  expression  of  his  countenance  changed  ; 
for  now,  from  out  the  shadowed  face  of  the  bluff, 
came  that  bell-like,  boding  cry  — 

"  Woe,  woe  to  Acadie  the  Fair,  for  the  hour  of 
her  desolation  is  at  hand  !  " 

Nicole  looked  awed. 

"  He  knows,  that  Grul !  "  he  muttered.  "  It's 
coming  quick  now,  I'll  be  bound !  " 

"  Well,  so  are  we,  Nicole !  "  I  rejoined  cheer- 
fully ;  "  and  that's  what  most  concerns  me  at  this 
moment." 

I  peered  eagerly  ahead,  but  could  not,  in  that 
deluding  light,  discriminate  the  mouth  of  the 
Kenneticook  stream  from  its  low  adjacent  shores. 
Presently  the  waves  and  pitching  lessened.  The 
ebb  had  ceased,  and  the  near  shore  slipped  by 
more  rapidly.  The  slack  of  tide  lasted  but  a  few 
minutes.  Then  the  flood  set  in — noisily  and 


Memory  is  a  Child  121 

with  a  great  front  of  foam,  as  it  does  in  that 
river  of  high  tides ;  and  the  good  boat  sped  on 
at  a  pace  that  augured  accomplishment.  In  what 
seemed  to  me  but  a  few  minutes  the  mouth  of 
the  Kenneticook  opened,  whitely  glimmering, 
before  us. 

Barely  had  I  descried  it  when  Nicole  put  the 
helm  up  sharp  and  ran  straight  in  shore. 

"What  are  you  doing,  man?"  I  cried,  in  aston- 
ishment. "  You'll  have  us  aground  !  " 

But  the  words  were  not  more  than  out  of  my 
mouth  when  I  understood.  I  saw  the  narrow 
entrance  to  a  small  creek,  emptying  between  high 
banks. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  I.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Nicole  ;  I 
see  you  know  what  you're  about  all  right !  " 

He  chuckled  behind  unsmiling  lips. 

"  They'll  go  up  the  Kenneticook  in  their  canoes," 
said  he.  "We'll  hide  the  boat  here,  where  they'll 
not  find  it ;  and  we'll  cut  across  the  ridge  to  the 
Englishman's.  Quicker,  too  !  " 

The  creek  was  narrow  and  winding,  but  deep 
for  the  first  two  hundred  yards  of  its  course;  and 
Nicole,  he  knew  every  turn  and  shallow.  We 
beached  the  boat  where  she  could  not  be  seen 
from  the  river,  tied  her  to  a  tree  on  the  bank 
above  so  that  she  might  not  get  away  at  high  tide, 
and  then  plunged  into  the  dense  young  fir  woods 
that  clothed  the  lower  reaches  of  the  Piziquid 


122  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

shore.  There  was  no  trail,  but  it  was  plain  to  me 
that  Nicole  well  knew  the  way. 

"You've  gone  this  way  before,  Nicole?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  a  few  times,"  he  answered. 

I  considered  for  a  moment,  pushing  aside  the 
wet,  prickly  branches  as  I  went.  Then  — 

"What  is  her  name,  Nicole?  "  I  asked. 

"Julie,  Master  Paul,"  said  he  softly. 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  then  you  had  reasons  of  your 
own  for  coming  with  me  to-night?" 

"Not  so  !  "  he  answered,  a  rebuking  sobriety  in 
his  voice.  "None,  save  my  love  for  you  and 
your  house,  Master  Paul.  She  is  in  no  peril. 
She  is  far  from  here,  safe  in  Isle  St.  Jean  this 
month  past." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  friend,"  said  I,  at  once. 
"  I  know  your  love.  I  said  it  but  to  banter  you, 
for  I  had  not  guessed  that  you  had  been  led  cap- 
tive, Nicole." 

"  A  man's  way,  Master  Paul,  when  a  woman 
wills  !  "  said  he  cheerfully. 

But  I  had  no  more  thought  of  it  than  to  be  glad 
it  had  taught  Nicole  Brun  a  short  path  through 
the  woods  to  Kenneticook. 

What  strange  tricks  do  these  our  tangled  make- 
ups play  us  !  I  know  that  that  night,  during  that 
swift  half-hour's  run  through  the  woods,  my  whole 
brain,  my  every  purpose,  was  concentrated  upon 
the  rescue  of  George  Anderson.  The  price  I  was 


Memory  is  a  Child  123 

prepared  to  pay  was  life,  no  less.  Yet  all  the 
shaping  emotion  of  it  —  sharp  enough,  one  would 
think,  to  cut  its  lines  forever  on  a  man's  face,  to 
say  nothing  of  his  brain  —  has  bequeathed  to  me 
no  least  etching  of  remembrance.  Of  great  things 
all  I  recall  is  that  the  name  "  Yvonne  "  seemed 
ever  just  within  my  lips  —  so  that  once  or  twice  I 
thought  I  had  spoken  it  aloud.  But  my  senses 
were  very  wide  awake,  taking  full  advantage,  per- 
haps, of  the  heart's  preoccupation.  My  eyes, 
ears,  nose,  touch,  they  busied  themselves  to  note 
a  thousand  trifles  —  and  these  are  what  come 
back  to  me  now.  Such  idle,  idle  things  alone 
remain,  out  of  that  race  with  death. 

Things  idle  as  these :  I  see  a  dew-wet  fir-top 
catch  the  moonlight  for  an  instant  and  flash  to 
whiteness,  an  up-thrust  lance  of  silver;  I  see  the 
shadow  of  a  dead,  gnarled  branch  cast  upon  a 
mossy  open  in  startling  semblance  of  a  crucifix  — 
so  clear,  I  cannot  but  stoop  and  touch  it  reverently 
as  I  pass ;  I  see,  at  the  edge  of  a  grassy  glade,  a 
company  of  tall  buttercups,  their  stems  invisible, 
their  petals  seeming  to  float  toward  me,  a 
squadron  of  small,  light  wings.  I  hear  —  I  hear 
the  rush  of  the  tide  die  out  as  we  push  deeper  into 
the  woods ;  I  hear  the  smooth  swish  of  branches 
thrust  apart;  I  hear  the  protesting,  unresonant 
creak  of  the  green  underbrush  as  we  tread  it 
down,  and  the  sharp  crackle  of  dry  twigs  as  we 


124  A-  Sister  to  Evangeline 

thread  the  aisles  of  older  forest ;  I  hear,  from  the 
face  of  a  moonlit  bluff  upon  our  left,  the  long, 
mournful  WJibo-hu-hu  —  Hoo-oo  of  the  brown  owl. 
I  smell  the  savour  of  juniper,  of  bruised  snake- 
root,  of  old,  slow-rotting  wood ;  with  once  a  fairy 
breath  of  unseen  linncea;  and  once,  at  the 
fringed  brink  of  a  rivulet,  the  pungent  fragrance 
of  wild  mint.  I  feel  the  frequent  wet  slappings  of 
branches  on  my  face ;  I  feel  the  strong  prickles 
of  the  fir,  the  cool,  flat  frondage  of  the  spruce  and 
hemlock,  the  unresisting,  feathery  spines  of  the 
young  hackmatack  trees ;  I  feel,  once,  a  gluey  web 
upon  my  face,  and  the  abhorrence  with  which  I 
dash  off  the  fat  spider  that  clings  to  my  chin ;  I 
feel  the  noisome  slump  of  my  foot  as  I  tread  upon 
a  humped  and  swollen  gathering  of  toad-stools. 

All  this  is  what  comes  back  to  me  —  and  Ni- 
cole's form,  ever  silent,  ever  just  ahead,  wasting  no 
breath ;  till  at  last  we  came  upon  a  fence,  and 
beyond  the  fence  wide  fields,  and  beyond  the 
fields  a  low  white  house  with  wings  and  outbuild- 
ings, at  peace  in  the  open  moonlight. 

"We  are  in  time,  Master  Paul!"  said  Nicole 
quietly. 


Chapter    XVIII 
For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep 

WE  vaulted  the  fence,  jumped  a  well-cut  ditch 
(I  took  note  that  Anderson  was  an  excel- 
lent farmer),  and  ran  across  the  fields.  Presently 
came  a  deep,  baying  bark,  and  a  great,  light-col- 
oured English  mastiff  came  bounding  toward  us. 

"  Quiet,  Ban !  "  said  Nicole ;  and  the  huge 
beast,  with  a  puppy-whine  of  delight,  fell  fawning 
at  his  knees.  We  were  close  to  the  house.  Nicole 
stopped,  and  pointed  to  a  cabin  just  visible  at  the 
foot  of  a  long  slope  falling  away  to  our  right. 

"  Julie's  brother  may  chance  to  be  there,  Master 
Paul,"  said  he.  "  He  is  known  for  his  devotion 
to  Monsieur  Anderson,  whom  few  of  us  love.  I 
will  go  wake  the  lad,  if  he's  there,  while  you  rouse 
the  master." 

"  If  you  should  fail  to  get  back  this  way,  my 
friend,"  said  I,  "  let  us  meet,  say,  at  the  boat." 

"  Yes,  at  the  boat,"  he  answered  confidently. 

I  paused,  partly  to  get  breath,  partly  to  follow 
him  with  a  look  of  grateful  admiration,  the 

125 


126  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

modest,  still,  strong,  faithful  retainer,  of  a  type 
nigh  vanished.  He  ran  with  his  black-shock 
head  thrust  forward,  and  the  great  dog  bounded 
beside  him  like  a  kitten. 

It  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  Nicole  Brun ;  nor 
to  this  day,  for  all  my  searching,  have  I  had  word 
of  what  befell  him.  Of  the  dog  I  learned  some- 
thing, seeing  his  skin,  a  year  later,  worn  upon  the 
shoulders  of  an  Indian  boy  of  the  Micmac  settle- 
ment. From  this  I  could  make  shrewd  guess  at 
the  fate  of  my  Nicole  ;  but  the  Indian  lies  astutely, 
and  I  could  prove  nothing.  Sleep  well,  Nicole, 
my  brave  and  true ! 

George  Anderson's  wide  red  door  carried  a 
brass  knocker  which  grinned  venomously  in  the 
moonlight.  My  first  summons  brought  no 
answer.  Then  I  thundered  again,  imperatively, 
and  I  heard  Anderson's  voice  within,  calling  to 
servants.  No  servants  made  reply,  so  again  I 
hammered,  and  shook  fiercely  at  the  door.  Then 
.'he  came  himself,  looking  bewildered. 

"  Monsieur  Grande,  pardon  me !  The  ser- 
vants "  — 

"  The  servants  have  fled,"  I  interrupted.  "  Come 
quickly !  There  is  not  a  minute  to  lose.  The 
abbe's  savages  are  near.  They  are  coming  to 
scalp  you  and  burn  your  house.  We  will  leave 
them  the  house." 

There  was  no   sign  of  fear  on   his  face,  merely 


For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep       127 

annoyance ;  and  I  saw  that  his  mind  worked  but 
heavily. 

"Come  in!  "  he  said,  leading  the  way  into  a 
wide  room  looking  out  upon  the  Kenneticook 
tide.  "  I  won't  be  driven  by  those  curs.  They 
dare  not  touch  me.  At  the  worst,  with  the  help 
of  the  servants  we  can  fight  them  off.  Sit  down, 
monsieur." 

And  he  proceeded  calmly  to  pull  on  his  boots. 

I  had  followed  him  inside,  wild  at  his  obstinacy. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  I,  "they  want  your  scalp. 
The  servants  are  traitors  and  have  stolen  away 
while  you  slept.  We  are  alone.  Come,  man, 
come!  Would  you  have  my  throat  cut,  too?" 
And  I  shook  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Why  have  you  come?"  he  asked,  unmoved, 
staring  at  me. 

"  For  the  sake  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie  !  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  he,  eying  me  with  a  slow  hostil- 
ity. 

"You  fool!"  I  exclaimed.  "They  have 
burned  De  Lamourie's.  I  swore  to  Yvonne  de 
Lamourie  that  I  would  save  you  or  die  with  you. 
If  ypu  think  she  loves  you,  stir  yourself.  I  cannot 
carry  you.  Look  at  that !  " 

I  pointed  to  the  window.  At  Yvonne's  name  he 
had  risen  to  his  feet.  He  looked  out.  A  group 
of  canoes  was  turning  in  to  shore,  not  two  furlongs 
distant. 


128  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Where  is  she?  "  he  inquired,  alert  at  last. 

"  Safe,"  said  I  curtly,  "  at  Father  Fafard's." 

Still  he  wavered,  brave,  but  undecided.  I  think 
he  wondered  why  I  was  her  chosen  messenger. 

"  She  is  in  a  frenzy  at  your  peril,"  I  said,  though 
the  words  stuck  in  my  throat.  That  moved  him. 
His  face  lighted  with  boyish  pleasure. 

"  Come !  "  he  cried,  as  if  he  had  been  urging 
me  all  the  time.  "  We'll  slip  out  at  the  back,  and 
keep  the  buildings  between  us  and  the  river  till 
we  reach  the  woods." 

"Have  you  no  weapon?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  but  this  will  do,"  and  he 
picked  up  a  heavy  oak  stick  from  behind  the  door 
of  the  room. 

Great  as  was  the  haste,  I  told  him  to  lock 
the  main  door.  Then  as  we  slipped  out  at  the 
back  we  locked  the  kitchen  door  behind  us.  I 
knew  this  would  delay  the  chase ;  whereas  if  they 
found  the  doors  «open  they  would  realize  at  once 
the  escape  of  their  intended  victim  and  rush  in 
pursuit,  leaving  the  little  matter  of  the  fire  to  be 
seen  to  afterwards. 

From  the  back  door  we  darted  to  the  garden, 
a  thicket  of  pole  beans  and  hops  and  hollyhocks. 
From  the  furthest  skirt  of  these  shelters  we  ran 
along  a  ditch  that  fenced  a  field  of  growing  buck- 
wheat, not  yet  high  enough  to  give  covert ;  but  I 
think  we  kept  well  in  shadow  of  the  house  all  the 


For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep       129 

way  to  the  woods.  If  afterwards  our  enemies 
tracked  us  with  what  seemed  a  quite  unnecessary 
promptitude  and  ease,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
our  trail  was  not  obscure. 

I  led  the  flight,  intending  we  should  strike 
the  creek  at  some  distance  above  the  boat  and 
make  our  way  down  to  it  along  the  water's 
edge,  to  cover  our  traces.  The  more  we  could 
divide  our  pursuers,  the  better  would  be  our 
chances  in  the  struggle,  if  overtaken.  The  pace  I 
set  was  a  sharp  one,  and  soon,  as  I  could  perceive 
by  his  breathing,  began  to  tell  upon  my  heavy- 
limbed  and  unhardened  companion.  I  slackened 
gradually,  that  he  might  not  think  I  did  it  on  his 
account. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  there  arose  behind  us, 
coming  thinly  through  the  trees,  the  screeching 
war-whoop  of  the  Micmacs,  which  has  ever  seemed 
to  me  more  demoniacal  and  inhuman  than  even 
that  of  the  Iroquois.  Then,  when  we  took  time 
to  glance  over  our  shoulders,  we  marked  a  red 
glare  climbing  slowly.  I  judged  that  our  escape 
was  by  this  time  discovered,  and  the  wolves  hot 
upon  our  trail. 

To  my  companion,  however,  the  sight  brought 
a  different  thought. 

"  Where  were  you,"  he  gasped,  "  when  they  at- 
tacked De  Lamourie's?  Did  you  not  —  promise  — 
to  save  the  place?  " 


130  A    Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  I  was  a  fool,"  said  I,  between  my  teeth.  "  I 
thought  the  might  of  my  name  had  saved  it.  I 
went  to  the  Habitants.  When  I  got  back  it  was 
over." 

"  Ah !  "  was  all  he  said,  husbanding  his  breath. 

"  And  they  think  I  am  a  traitor  —  that  I  sanc- 
tioned it,"  I  went  on  in  a  bitter  voice. 

He  gave  a  short  laugh,  impatiently. 

"Who?  "  he  asked. 

"Monsieur  and  Madame,"  said  I,  "and,  pos- 
sibly, Mademoiselle  also." 

"  I  could  —  have  told  them  better  than  that," 
he  panted ;  "  I  know  a  man." 

Under  the  circumstances  I  did  not  think  that 
rrtodesty  required  me  to  disclaim  the  compliment. 

A  little  further  on  he  clutched  me  by  the  arm, 
and  stopped,  gasping. 

"  Blown,"  said  he,  smiling,  as  if  the  situation 
were  quite  casual.  "Must  —  one  minute." 

I  chafed,  but  stood  motionless. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  heavy  crash  some  distance 
behind  us. 

"  They  are  so  sure,  they  scorn  the  least  precau- 
tion," I  whispered,  foolishly  wroth  at  their  confi- 
dence. "  But  come,  though  your  lungs  should 
burst  for  it,"  I  went  on.  "  I  will  seize  the  first 
hiding-place." 

He  rallied  like  a  man,  and  we  raced  on  with 
fresh  speed.  Indeed,  as  I  look  back  upon  it,  I  see 


For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep       131 

that  he  did  miraculously  well  for  one  so  unused 
to  the  exercise. 

Five  minutes  later  we  came  to  a  small  brook 
crossing  our  path  from  left  to  right  toward  the 
Kenneticook.  It  was  a  place  of  low,  brushy 
shrubs  under  large  trees. 

"  Keep  close  to  me,"  I  whispered,  "  and  look 
sharp.  We'll  stop  right  here." 

I  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  brook,  and  he 
did  likewise,  carefully.  Setting  our  feet  with  pre- 
caution to  disturb  no  stones,  we  descended  the 
stream  some  twenty  paces,  then  crept  ashore 
beneath  the  thick  growth,  and  lay  at  full  length 
like  logs. 

"  You  must  get  your  breathing  down  to  silence 
absolute,"  I  whispered;  "they  will  be  here  in  two 
minutes." 

In  half  a  minute  he  had  his  laboring  lungs  in 
harness.  Though  within  an  arm's  length  of  him  I 
could  hear  no  sound.  But  I  could  hear  our  pur- 
suers thrashing  along  on  our  trail.  In  a  minute 
they  were  at  the  brook,  to  find  the  trail  cut  short. 
I  caught  snatches  of  their  guttural  comment,  and 
laughed  in  my  sleeve  as  I  realized  that  Anderson's 
very  weakness  was  going  to  serve  our  ends.  The 
savages  never  dreamed  that  any  one  could  be 
winded  from  so  short  a  run.  Had  their  quarry 
gone  up  the  brook  or  down  it,  was  all  their  wonder. 
Unable  to  decide,  they  split  into  two  parties,  going 


132  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

either  way.  From  the  corner  of  my  eye,  violently 
twisted,  I  marked  seven  redskins  loping  past  down 
stream. 

When  they  were  out  of  hearing  I  touched 
Anderson  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  now  is  our  time." 

"  That  was  neat,  very,"  he  muttered,  with  a 
quiet  little  chuckle,  rising  and  throwing  off  the 
underbrush  like  an  ox  climbing  out  of  his  August 
wallow. 

"  Straight  ahead  now  for  the  creek,"  I  whis- 
pered, crossing  the  brook ;  but  a  sound  from  behind 
made  me  turn.  There  stood  a  huge  savage,  much 
astonished  at  the  apparition  of  us. 

His  astonishment  was  our  salvation.  It  delayed 
his  signal  yell.  As  his  breath  drew  in  for  it  and 
I  sprang  with  my  sword,  the  Englishman  was  upon 
him  naked-handed.  He  forgot  his  stick ;  which 
indeed  was  well,  for  his  two  hands  at  the  redskin's 
throat  best  settled  the  matter  of  the  signal.  For 
a  Quaker,  whom  I  have  heard  to  be  peaceful  folk, 
Anderson  seemed  to  me  a  good  deal  in  earnest. 
Big  and  supple  though  the  savage  was,  he  was 
choked  in  half  a  minute  and  his  head  knocked 
against  a  tree.  Anderson  let  him  drop,  a  limp 
carcass,  upon  the  underbrush,  and  stood  over  him 
panting  and  clenching  his  fingers,  ready  to  try  a 
new  hold. 

I  examined  the  painted  mass. 


"Anderson  let  him  drop  upon  the  underbrush." 


For  a  Little  Summer's  Sleep       133 

"Not  dead,  quite!  "  said  I.  "  But  he's  as  good 
as  dead  for  an  hour,  I  should  say.  I  think  perhaps 
we  need  not  finish  him." 

"  Better  finish  him,  and  make  sure,"  urged  An- 
derson, to  my  open  astonishment.  "  He  may  stir 
up  trouble  for  us  later.'' 

But  I  was  firm.  I  like,  positively  like,  to  kill 
my  man  in  fair  fight ;  but  once  down  he's  safe 
from  me,  though  he  were  the  devil  himself. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  you  shall  not.  Come  on.  If 
the  poor  rascal  ever  gets  over  that  mauling,  he'll 
deserve  to.  That  was  neat,  now.  You  are  much 
wasted  in  Quakerdom,  monsieur,  when  your  Eng- 
lish armies  are  needing  good  men." 

He  was  following  close  at  my  heels,  as  I  once 
more  led  the  race  through  the  woods.  He  made 
no  answer.  Either  he  was  saving  his  wind,  or  he 
was  angry  at  leaving  a  good  job  unfinished.  I 
mocked  myself  in  my  own  heart,  thinking: 

"  Paul,  you  fool,  out  of  this  big  Quaker  you 
have  made  a  fighter,  and  he  seems  to  like  it.  You 
may  find  your  hands  full  with  him,  one  of  these 
days." 

The  thought  was  pleasant  -to  me  on  the  whole, 
for  it  is  ill  and  dishonouring  work  to  fight  a  man 
who  is  no  fair  match  for  you.  That  was  something 
I  never  could  stomach,  and  have  ever  avoided, 
even  though  at  the  cost  of  deep  annoyance. 

Now  the  ground  began  to  rise,  and   I   guessed 


134  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

we  were  nearing  the  creek  at  a  point  where  the 
banks  were  high. 

"  Nearly  there,"  I  whispered  encouragingly,  and 
thrust  forward  with  sudden  elation  through  a  dense 
screen  of  underbrush.  I  was  right  —  all  too  right. 
The  leafage  parted  as  parts  a  cloud.  There  was 
no  ground  beneath  my  feet. 

"  Back !  "  I  hissed  wildly,  and  went  plunging 
down  a  dark  steep,  striking,  rebounding,  clutching 
now  at  earth  and  now  at  air.  At  last  it  ap- 
peared to  me  that  I  came  partly  to  a  stop  and 
merely  rolled ;  but  it  no  longer  seemed  worth 
while  to  grasp  at  anything. 


Chapter  XIX 
The   Borderland    of  Life 

AGAIN  I  felt  myself  striving  to  grasp  at  some- 
thing —  nothing  tangible  now,  but  a  long 
series  of  exhausting,  infinitely  confused  dreams. 
My  brain  strove  desperately  to  retain  them,  but 
the  more  it  strove  the  more  they  slipped  back  into 
the  darkness  of  the  further  side  of  memory ;  and, 
with  one  mighty  effort  to  hold  on  to  the  last  of 
the  vanishing  train,  I  opened  my  eyes,  oppressed 
with  a  sense  of  significant  things  forgotten. 

My  eyes  opened,  I  say ;  and  they  stared  widely 
at  a  patch  of  sky,  of  an  untellable  blue,  sparkling 
gem-like,  and  set  very  far  off  as  if  seen  through 
the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope.  As  I  stared,  the 
sense  of  oppression  slipped  from  me.  I  sat  up ; 
but  the  patch  of  sky  reeled,  and  I  lay  back  again, 
whereupon  it  recovered  its  adorable  stability.  I 
felt  tired,  but  content.  It  was  good  to  lie  there, 
and  watch  that  enchanted  sky,  and  rest  from 
thought  and  dreams. 

After  a  while,  however,  I  turned  my  head,  and 
US 


136  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

noted  that  I  was  in  a  deep,  low-vaulted,  tunnel- 
shaped  cave  —  or  rather  bottle-shaped,  for  it  was 
enlarged  about  the  place  where  I  lay.  I  noted 
that  I  lay  on  furs,  on  a  low,  couch-like  ledge ;  and 
I  noted,  too,  that  there  was  a  wind  outside,  for  at 
intervals  a  branch  was  bowed  across  the  cave- 
mouth  and  withdrawn.  Then  I  perceived  that  a 
little  jar  of  water  and  a  broken  cake  of  barley  meal 
stood  just  within  reach;  and  straightway  I  was 
aware  of  a  most  interested  appetite.  I  sat  up 
again  and  began  to  eat  and  drink.  The  patch  of 
sky  reeled,  danced,  blurred,  darkened,  —  and  again 
grew  clear  and  steady.  I  finished  the  barley 
bread,  finished  the  little  jar  of  water,  and  sat 
communing  lucidly  with  my  right  mind. 

It  was  manifest  that  I  had  been  saved  that  night 
of  my  fall  over  the  cliff  (by  Anderson?  —  I 
prayed  not)  ;  that  I  had  been  desperately  ill  — 
for  the  hands  and  arms  upon  which  I  looked 
down  with  sarcastic  pity  were  emaciated ;  that 
I  had  been  tenderly  cared  for  —  for  the  couch 
was  soft,  the  cave  well  kept,  and  a  rude  screen 
stood  at  one  side  to  shield  me  when  the  winds 
came  into  the  cave-mouth.  I  raised  my  hands  to 
my  head.  It  was  bandaged  ;  and  at  one  side  my 
hair  had  been  much  cut  away.  But  my  hair  — 
how  long  the  rest  of  it  was !  And  then  came  a 
stroke  of  wonder  —  my  once  smooth  chin  was 
deeply  bearded !  How  long,  how  long  must  I 


The  Borderland  of  Life  137 

have  rested  here,  to  grow  so  patriarchal  an  adorn- 
ment ! 

Stung  to  a  fierce  restlessness,  and  with  a  sinking 
at  my  heart,  I  rose,  tottered  to  the  cave-mouth, 
and  looked  out. 

The  world  I  had  last  seen  was  a  green  world  on 
the  threshold  of  June.  The  world  I  looked  on 
now  was  a  world  of  fading  scarlets,  the  last  fires 
of  autumn  fast  dying  from  the  ragged  leafage. 

Below,  beyond  trees  and  a  field,  was  outspread 
the  wide  water  of  Minas,  roughened  to  a  cold  and 
angry  indigo  under  the  wind.  To  the  left,  purple- 
dim  and  haze-wrapped,  sat  Blomidon.  Grand  Pre 
must  be  around  to  the  left.  Then  the  cave  was  in 
the  face  of  the  Piziquid  bluff".  So  near  to  friends, 
yet  hidden  in  a  cave  !  What  had  happened  the 
while  I  lay  as  dead?  I  tottered  back  to  the  couch, 
and  fell  on  my  back,  and  thought.  My  appre- 
hensions were  like  a  mountain  of  lead  upon  the  pit 
of  my  stomach,  and  I  laboured  for  my  breath. 

First  I  thought  of  Nicole  as  having  saved  me  — 
Anderson  I  knew  would  have  done  his  best,  but 
was  helpless  among  an  unfriendly  people,  and  well 
occupied  to  keep  his  own  scalp.  Yet  Nicole  would 
have  taken  me  to  Father  Fafard !  And  surely 
there  were  houses  in  Grand  Pre  where  the  son  of 
my  father  would  have  been  nursed,  and  not  driven 
to  hide  in  a  hole  —  till  his  beard  grew!  And 
surely,  after  all  that  had  happened,  Yvonne  would 


138  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

no  longer  count  me  a  traitor,  Monsieur  and  Madame 
would  make  amends  for  this  dreadful  misjudgment ! 
And  surely  —  but  if  so,  where  were  all  these 
friends? 

Or  what  had  befallen  Grand  Pre? 

"If  evil  has  befallen  them  (I  did  not  say 
Yvonne)  I  want  to  die  !  I  will  go  out,  and  fight, 
and  die  at  once !  "  I  cried,  springing  to  my  feet. 

But  I  was  still  very  weak,  and  my  passion  had 
yet  further  weakened  me,  so  that  I  fell  to  the  floor 
beside  the  couch ;  and  in  falling  I  knocked  over 
the  little  jar  and  broke  it.  Even  then  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  regret  for  the  little  jar;  I  realized  that 
I  was  thirsty;  and  though  I  wanted  to  die,  I 
wanted  a  drink  of  water  first. 

This  inconsequent  mood  soon  passed,  and  I 
crawled  back  on  to  the  couch,  the  conviction  well 
hammered  into  my  brain  that  I  was  not  yet  fit  to 
die  with  credit.  And  now,  having  found  me  no 
comfort  in  reason,  and  having  faced  the  fact  that 
there  was  nothing  I  could  do  but  wait,  I  began  to 
muse  more  temperately,  and  to  cast  about,  as  one 
will  when  weak,  for  omens  and  auguries.  They 
kill  time,  and  I  hold  them  harmless. 

But  a  truce  to  cant.  Who  am  I  that  I  should 
dare  to  say  I  laugh  at  or  deny  them?  I  may 
laugh  at  myself  for  a  credulous  fool.  And  I  have 
no  doubt  whatever  that  most  omens  are  sheer 
rubbish,  more  vain  than  a  floating  feather.  But 


The  Borderland  of  Life  139 

again  there  are  things  of  that  kindred  that  have 
convinced  me,  and  have  blessed  me ;  and  I  dare 
not  be  irreverent  to  the  mock  mysteries,  lest  I  be 
guilty  of  blaspheming  those  which  are  true.  We 
know  not  —  that  is  the  most  we  know. 

I  will  not  agree,  then,  that  I  was  a  subject  for 
laughter  if,  lying  there  alone,  sick,  tormented, 
loving  without  hope,  fast  bound  in  ignorance  of 
events  most  vital  to  my  love,  I  let  my  mind  recall 
the  curious  prophesyings  of  old  Mother  P£che. 
Of  Yvonne  directly  I  dared  not  suffer  myself  to 
think,  lest  my  heart  should  break  or  stop. 

When  fate  denies  occasion  to  play  the  hero, 
it  is  often  well,  while  waiting,  to  play  the  child. 
I  lay  quiet,  looked  at  the  patch  of  sky,  and  occu- 
pied myself  with  Mother  P£che's  soothsayings. 

Your  heart's  desire  is  near  your  death  of  hope. 

At  first  there  was  comfort  in  this,  and  I  took  it 
very  seriously,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument.  But 
oh,  these  oracles,  astute  from  the  days  of  Delphi 
and  Dodona !  Already  I  could  perceive  that  my 
hope  was  not  quite  dead.  A  thousand  chances 
came  hinting  about  the  windows  of  my  thought. 
Why  might  not  Yvonne  be  safe,  well,  —  free? 
The  odds  were  that  things  had  gone  ill  in  my 
absence,  but  there  was  still  the  chance  they  might 
have  instead  gone  well.  Here  and  now,  plainly, 
was  not  my  death  of  hope,  wherefore  my  heart's 
desire  could  not  be  near.  I  turned  aside  the 


140  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

saying  in  angry  contempt,  and  fell  to  feeling  my 
ribs,  my  shrunk  chest,  my  skinny  arms,  wonder- 
ing how  long  before  I  could  well  wield  sword 
again. 

In  this  far  from  reassuring  occupation  I  came 
upon  the  little  leather  pouch  which  Mother  Peche 
had  hung  about  my  neck.  With  eagerness  I  drew 
out  the  mystic  stone  and  held  it  up  before  my 
face.  The  eye  waned  and  dilated  in  the  dim  light, 
as  if  a  living  spirit  lurked  behind  it. 

"  Le  Veilleur,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  The  Watcher. 
Little  strange  is  it  if  simple  souls  ascribe  to  you 
sorcery  and  power." 

Then  I  remembered  the  snatch  of  doggerel 
which  the  old  dame  had  muttered  over  it  as  she 
gave  it  to  me.  While  this  you  wear  what  most  you 
fear  will  never  come  to  pass. 

Curious  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  should  have 
stuck  in  my  mind,  though  so  little  heeded  at  the 
time.  What  most  you  fear.  What  was  it  most  I 
feared  ?  Surely,  that  Yvonne  should  go  to  another. 
Then  that,  at  least,  should  not  befall  while  I  lived, 
if  there  were  force  in  witchcraft ;  for  I  would  wear 
the  "  Watcher  "  till  I  died. 

But  here  again  my  delusive  little  satisfaction 
had  but  a  breath  long  to  live.  For  indeed  what 
most  I  feared  was  something,  alas !  quite  differ- 
ent. What  most  I  feared  was  calamity,  evil, 
anguish,  for  Yvonne.  Then,  clearly,  if  her  happi- 


The  Borderland  of  Life  141 

ness  required  her  to  be  the  wife  of  George  Ander- 
son, I  could  not  hinder  it.  Could  not?  Nay, 
"  would  not !  "  I  cried  aloud ;  and  thereupon,  no 
longer  able  to  drug  myself  with  auguries,  and  no 
longer  able  to  be  dumb  under  the  misery  of 
my  own  soul,  I  sprang  upright,  strained  my  arms 
above  my  head,  and  prayed  a  selfish  prayer : 

"  God,  give  her  joy,  but  through  me,  through 
me  !  "  Then  I  flung  myself  down  again,  and  set  my 
teeth,  and  turned  my  face  to  the  wall.  Thus  I  lay 
as  one  dead ;  and  so  it  fell  that  when  the  door  of 
the  cave  was  darkened,  and  steps  came  to  my  bed, 
I  did  not  look  up. 


Chapter  XX 
But  Mad  Nor-nor-west 

THE  steps  came  close  to  me,  moved  away, 
and  were  still.     A  sick  man's  curiosity  soon 
works,  and  here,  surely,  were  incalculable  matters 
for  me  to  find  out.     I  turned  over  suddenly. 

It  was  a  fantastic  figure  that  faced  me,  sitting  on 
a  billet  of  wood  not  far  from  the  door.  Withered 
herbs  were  in  the  high,  peaked  cap.  The  black- 
and-yellow  mantle  was  drawn  forward  to  cover  the 
folded  arms.  The  steely  eyes  were  at  my  inmost 
thought. 

There  is  no  doubt  I  was  still  a  sick  man.  I  was 
unspeakably  disappointed.  Looking  back  upon  it 
now,  I  verily  believe  that  I  expected  to  see  Yvonne, 
as  in  a  fairy  tale. 

"Why  did  you  come  in,"  I  asked  peevishly, 
twisting  under  those  eyes,  "  without  proclaim- 
ing— 

"  '  Woe,  woe  to  Acadie  the  Fair,  for  the  hour  of 
her  desolation  cometh  '  ?  " 

"  It  has  come,"  said  he  quietly. 
142 


But  Mad  Nor-nor-west  143 

I  sat  up  as  if  a  spring  had  moved  me.  My 
eyes  alone  questioned. 

"  Beausejour  has  fallen.  France  is  driven  back 
on  Louisbourg.  The  men  of  Acadie  are  in 
chains.  The  women  await  what  fate  they  know 
not.  Their  homes  await  the  flame." 

Here  was  no  madman  speaking. 

"And — Yvonne?"  I  whispered. 

"  They  all  are  safe,  under  shelter  of  the  gover- 
nor—  and  of  Anderson,"  he  added  icily. 

I  had  no  more  words  for  a  moment.  Then  I 
asked  —  "  And  the  Black  Abbe?  " 

His  sane  calm  disappeared.  His  face  worked ; 
his  hands  came  out  from  under  his  cloak,  darting 
like  serpents ;  his  eyes  veered  like  pale  flame. 
As  suddenly  he  was  calm  again. 

"  He  is  at  Louisbourg,"  said  he,  "  at  Isle  St. 
Jean  —  here  —  there  —  anywhere  ;  free,  busy,  still 
heaping  and  heating  the  fires  which  shall  burn  his 
soul  alive." 

I  like  a  man  who  is  in  earnest;  but  I  could 
think  of  nothing  appropriate  to  say.  After  a 
pause  I  changed  the  subject. 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  said  I,  "  and  hungry  too,  I 
think,  though  I  have  eaten  all  the  barley  bread. 
And  I'm  sorry,  but  I've  broken  the  jar." 

From  a  niche  in  the  wall  he  at  once  brought  me 
more  barley  cake,  with  butter,  and  fresh  milk,  and 
some  dried  beef.  The  wholesome,  homely  taste 


144  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

of  them  comes  back  to  me  now.  Having  eaten,  I 
felt  that  nothing  could  be  quite  so  good  as 
sleep ;  and  with  grateful  mutterings,  half  spoken, 
I  slept. 

When  I  woke  it  was  the  cold  light  of  early 
morning  that  came  in  at  the  cave-mouth ;  and  I 
was  alone.  I  felt  so  much  better  that  I  got  up  at 
once ;  but  ere  I  could  reach  the  door  a  dizziness 
came  over  me,  and  I  staggered  back  to  my  place, 
feeling  that  my  hour  was  not  yet.  As  I  lay  fret- 
ting my  heart  with  a  thousand  hot  conjectures,  my 
host  came  in.  He  looked  at  me,  but  said  not  a 
word ;  nor  could  I  get  his  tongue  loosened  all 
through  our  light  breakfast.  At  last,  to  my  obsti- 
nate repetition  of  the  inquiry:  "When  shall  I  be 
strong  enough  to  go  down  into  Grand  Pre?"  he 
suddenly  awoke  and  answered: 

"  A  little  way  to-morrow,  perhaps ;  and  the 
next  day,  further ;  and  within  the  week,  if  you  are 
fortunate,  you  should  be  strong  enough  for  any- 
thing. You  will  need  to  be,  if  you  are  going 
down  into  Grand  Pre !  "  he  added  grimly. 

Upon  this  direct  telling  I  think  I  became  in  all 
ways  my  sane  self — weak,  indeed,  but  no  longer 
whimsical.  I  felt  that  Grul's  promise  was  much 
better  than  I  could  have  hoped.  I  knew  there 
would  be  need  of  all  my  strength.  I  was  a  man 
again,  no  more  a  sick  child.  And  I  would  wait. 

Grul    busied    himself  a  few  minutes  about  the 


But  Mad  Nor-nor-west  145 

cave,  in  a  practical,  every-day  fashion  that  con- 
sorted most  oddly  with  his  guise  and  fame.  I  could 
not  but  think  of  a  mad  king  playing  scullion.  But 
there  was  none  of  the  changing  light  of  madness 
in  his  eyes. 

Soon  he  seated  himself  at  the  cave-mouth,  and 
said,  pointing  to  a  roughly  shaped  ledge  with  a 
wolfskin  upon  it: 

"  Come  hither,  now,  and  take  this  good  air.  It 
will  medicine  your  thin  veins." 

Obeying  gladly,  I  was  soon  stretched  on  the 
wolfskin  at  the  very  brink,  as  it  seemed,  of  the 
open  world.  But  it  was  cold.  Perceiving  this, 
he  arose  without  a  word,  fetched  another  skin, 
and  tucked  it  about  me.  His  tenderness  of  touch 
was  like  a  woman's. 

"How  can  I  thank  you?"  I  began.  "It  is  to 
you,  I  now  perceive,  that  I  owe  my  life.  How 
much  besides  I  know  not !  " 

He  waved  my  thanks  aside  something  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Yes,  I  saved  you,"  said  he.  "  It  suited  me  to 
do  so.  I  foresaw  you  would  some  day  repay  me. 
And  I  like  you,  boy.  I  trust  you  ;  though  in  some 
ways  you  are  a  vain  fool." 

I  laughed.  I  had  such  confidence  in  him  I 
began  to  think  he  would  bring  all  my  desires  to 
pass. 

"  And  I  have  been  wont  to  imagine  you  a  mad- 


146  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

man,"  said  I.  "  But  I  seem  to  have  been  mis- 
taken." 

"  Were  I  mad  utterly  as  I  seem,"  said  he,  in  a 
voice  which  thrilled  me  to  the  bone,  "  it  would  not 
be  strange.  I  am  mad  but  on  one  subject ;  and 
on  that  I  believe  that  God  will  adjudge  me 
sanest." 

He  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  that  white  fire 
playing  in  his  eyes ;  and  I  dared  not  break  upon 
his  reverie.  At  last  I  ventured,  for  my  tongue 
ached  with  questions  unasked : 

"  How  did  you  find  me  when  I  fell  over  the  cliff?  " 
I  queried.  "And  where  was  the  Englishman?" 

My  mouth  once  opened,  two  questions  instead 
of  one  jumped  out. 

"  It  was  noon,"  said  Grul,  "  and  I  found  your 
Englishman  sitting  by  you  waiting  for  the  sky  to 
fall.  Had  the  Micmacs  come  instead  of  me,  your 
two  scalps  would  have  risen  nimbly  together.  He 
is  a  good  man  and  brave ;  but  he  lacks  wits.  A 
woman  could  trust  him  to  do  anything  but  keep 
her  from  yawning !  " 

I  grinned  with  the  merest  silly  delight  —  a  mean 
delight.  But  Grul  went  on : 

"  He  is  worth  a  dozen  cleverer  men ;  but  he 
fatigued  me.  I  sent  him  away.  I  told  him  just  how 
to  go  to  reach  the  Piziquid  settlement,  whom  to  ask 
for,  and  what  help  to  bring  for  his  sick  comrade. 
Then,  knowing  what  was  about  to  befall,  and  hav- 


But  Mad  Nor-nor-west  147 

ing  in  mind  a  service  which  you  will  do  me  at  a 
later  day,  and  divining  that  you  would  rather  be 
sick  in  a  madman's  cave  than  in  an  English  jail, 
I  brought  you  here.  I  was  reputed  a  wizard  in 
the  old  days  in  France,  for  having  brought  men 
back  from  the  very  gape  of  the  grave ;  and  I  knew 
you  would  be  long  sick." 

I  looked  at  him,  and  I  think  my  grateful  love 
needed  no  words. 

"And  what  became  of  the  Englishman?"  I 
asked  presently. 

"  He  appeared  at  last  in  Grand  Pre,"  answered 
Grul,  "  and  told  the  truth  of  you,  and  dwelt  awhile 
within  the  shadow  of  the  chapel,  to  be  near  the 
guests  of  Father  Fafard ;  and  he  got  a  strong 
guard  placed  in  the  village  close  at  hand,  that  those 
who  loved  the  English  and  feared  the  abbe  might 
sleep  in  peace.  I  hear  he  presses  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  Mademoiselle's  pledge ;  but  she,  to  the 
much  vexation  of  Monsieur  and  Madame,  is  some- 
thing dilatory  in  her  obedience.  Of  course  she 
will  obey  in  the  end.  Even  Father  Fafard  exhorts 
her  to  that,  for  obedience  sums  all  virtues  in  a 
maid.  But  she  has  an  absurd  idea  that  the  Eng- 
lishman should  present  alive  to  her  the  man  who 
saved  his  life,  before  claiming  reward  at  hands  of 
hers.  I  might  have  enabled  him  to  do  this ;  but 
you  were  not  in  a  mind  to  be  consulted." 

"  You  are  the  wisest  man  I  ever  knew,"  said  I, 


148  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

conscious  of  an  absurd  inclination  to  fling  myself 
at  his  feet  and  do  penance  for  past  supercilious 
underratings. 

He  seemed  to  accept  the  tribute  as  not  undue, 
and  again  took  up  his  monologue. 

"  Had  you  died,  as  seemed  for  some  weeks  likely 
for  all  my  skill,  I  should  have  smoothed  the  way 
for  the  stupid  Englishman ;  but  finding  that  you 
would  live,  I  thought  to  bind  you  to  me  by  keeping 
your  way  open.  In  a  few  days  you  will  be  well, 
and  must  tread  your  own  path,  to  triumph  or 
disaster  as  your  own  star  shall  decree.  In  either 
case,  I  know  you  will  stand  by  me  when  my  need 
comes !  " 

"  You  know  the  merest  truth,"  said  I. 


Chapter   XXI 
Beausejour,  and  After 

NOW,  while  I  was  arranging  in  my  mind  a 
fresh  and  voluminous  series  of  interroga- 
tions, my  singular  host  arose  abruptly  and  went 
off  without  a  word,  leaving  me  to  rebuild  a  new 
image  of  him  out  of  the  shattered  fragments  of 
the  old. 

I  saw  that  he  was  not  mad,  but  possessed.  One 
intolerably  dominant  purpose  of  revenge  making 
all  else  little  in  his  eyes,  he  was  mad  but  in  rela- 
tion to  a  world  of  complex  impulses ;  in  relation 
to  his  great  aim,  sane,  and  ultimately  effective,  I 
could  not  doubt.  But  the  mad  grotesquerie  of  the 
part  he  had  assumed  had  come  to  cling  to  him  as 
another  self,  no  longer  to  be  quite  sloughed  off  at 
will.  To  play  his  part  well  he  had  resolved  to  be 
it;  and  he  was  it,  with  reservation.  Just  now, 
Acadie  fallen  and  his  enemy  for  the  time  in  eclipse, 
I  concluded  that  he  found  his  occupation  gone. 
Therefore,  after  solitary  and  tongue-tied  years,  his 
speech  flowed  freely  to  me,  as  a  stream  broken 

149 


150  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

loose.  That  he  had  a  purpose  with  me,  I  divined, 
would  excuse  him  in  his  own  sight  for  descending 
to  the  long  unwonted  relief  of  direct  and  simple 
utterance.  I  expected  to  find  out  from  him  many 
things  of  grave  import  during  the  few  days  of 
inaction  that  yet  lay  ahead  of  me.  Then  I  would 
be  able  to  act  —  without,  perhaps,  the  follies  of 
the  past.  Meanwhile  this  tender,  icy,  extravagant, 
colossal,  all  but  omniscient  character  had  bound 
me  to  him  with  the  irrefragable  bonds  of  mys- 
tery, gratitude,  and  trust.  I  was  Yvonne's  first,  but 
next  I  felt  myself  fast  in  leash  to  the  posturing 
madman  Grul. 

Returning  soon  to  my  couch,  I  dozed  and  mused 
away  the  morning.  At  noon  came  no  sign  of  my 
host,  so  I  went  to  the  niche  in  the  wall,  found  food, 
and  made  my  meal  alone,  feeling  myself  hourly 
growing  in  strength.  Toward  sunset  Grul  strode 
in,  waited,  as  my  convalescent  nostrils  averred, 
upon  a  most  savoury  smell.  It  proved  to  be  a 
still  steaming  collop  of  roast  venison,  and  after 
that  feast  I  know  the  blood  ran  redder  and  swifter 
in  my  pulses. 

"O  best  physician!"  said  I,  leaning  back. 
"  And  now,  I  beg  you,  assuage  a  little  the  itching 
of  my  ears." 

He  sat,  his  mantle  and  wizard  wand  flung  by, 
upon  a  billet  of  wood  against  the  wall,  and  looked 
not  all  unlike  familiar  mortals  of  the  finest.  Lean- 


Beaus£jour,  and  After  151 

ing  his  chin  in  his  long,  clutching  hands,  as  if  to 
make  gesture  impossible,  he  leaped  straight  into 
the  story : 

"  That  fighting  fire  in  your  Anderson,  when  he 
killed  the  savage  with  his  hands,  died  out.  He  is 
still  the  Quaker  farmer.  He  went  to  Grand  Pre, 
and  cleared  your  name,  and  told  how  you  had 
saved  him  for  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie.  With 
some  inconsequence,  Mademoiselle  was  thereupon 
austere  with  him  because  he  had  not  in  turn 
saved  you  for  her.  He  went  to  Halifax  and  did 
deeds  with  the  council  —  for  he  secured  further 
and  greater  grants  of  land  for  himself  and  further 
and  greater  grants  of  land  for  Giles  de  Lamourie, 
with  compensations  for  the  burnings  which  English 
rule  should  have  prevented,  and  with,  last  of  all, 
an  English  guard  for  Grand  Pre,  in  order  that 
scalps  of  English  inclination  might  be  secure  upon 
their  owners'  heads.  All  this  was  wise,  and  indeed 
plain  sense  —  better  than  fighting.  And  he  re- 
mains at  Grand  Pre,  and  waits  upon  Mademoiselle 
de  Lamourie,  patient  on  crumbs. 

"  In  June  things  happened,  while  you  slept  here. 
The  English  came  in  ships,  sailing  up  Chignecto 
water  and  startling  the  slow  fools  at  Beausejour. 
The  English  landed  on  their  own  side  of  the  Missi- 
guash.  The  black  ruins  of  Beaubassin  cried  out 
to  them  for  vengeance  on  La  Game."  (The  name, 
upon  his  lips,  snarled  like  a  wolf.) 


152  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Vergor,  the  public  thief,  called  in  the  men  of 
the  villages  to  help  his  garrison.  Beausejour  was 
a  nest  of  beavers  mending  the  walls  —  but  not  till 
the  torrent  was  already  tearing  through.  The  in- 
vaders, wading  the  deep  mud,  forced  the  Missi- 
guash,  and  drove  back  the  white-coat  regiments. 
They  seized  the  long  ridge  behind  the  fort,  and 
set  up  their  batteries.  Fort  guns  and  field  guns 
bowled  at  each  other  across  the  meadows. 

"  Meanwhile  the  English  governor  at  Halifax 
sent  for  the  heads  of  the  villages,  the  householders 
of  Piziquid,  Grand  Pre,  Annapolis.  He  said  the  time 
was  come,  the  final  time,  and  they  must  swear 
fealty  to  King  George  of  England.  He  bade  them 
choose  between  that  oath,  with  peace,  or  a  fate  he 
did  not  name.  A  few,  wise  like  Giles  de  Lamou- 
rie,  took  oath.  The  rest  feared  La  Game,  trusted 
France,  and  accounted  England  an  old  woman. 
They  refused,  and  went  home. 

"The  siege  went  on,  and  many  balls  were  wasted. 
The  English  were  all  on  one  side  of  the  fort,  so 
those  of  the  garrison  who  got  tired  of  being  be- 
sieged walked  out  the  other  side  and  went  home. 
These  were  the  philosophers.  Vergor  lived  in  his 
bomb-proof  casemate,  and  was  at  ease.  But  one 
morning  while  he  sat  at  breakfast  with  other  officers 
a  shell  came  through  the  roof  and  killed  certain  of 
them. 

"  That  ended  it.      If  the  bomb-proof  was  not 


Beausejour,  and  After  153 

bomb-proof,  Vergor  might  get  hurt.  He  capitu- 
lated. His  officers  broke  their  swords,  but  in 
vain.  La  Game  spat  upon  him." 

Here  he  stopped,  his  eyes  veered,  and  his  face 
twisted.  In  a  strange  voice  he  went  on : 

"  In  La  Game  yet  flickers  one  spark  of  good 
—  his  courage.  Till  that  is  eaten  out  by  his  sins 
he  lives,  not  being  fully  ripe  for  the  final  hell." 

He  stopped  again,  moistening  his  lips  with  his 
tongue. 

I  put  my  hand  to  my  head. 

"  Give  me  a  drink  of  water,  I  pray  you  !  "  said 
I  to  divert  him,  fearing  lest  that  swift  and  succinct 
narrative  had  come  to  an  end. 

He  gave  it  to  me,  and  in  a  moment  began  again. 

"  So  Beausejour  fell,"  said  he.  "  La  Game  left 
early,  for  him  the  English  wanted  to  hang.  The 
rest  marched  out  with  honours  of  war.  The  Eng- 
lish found  them  an  inconvenience  as  prisoners, 
and  sent  them  to  Louisbourg.  And  Beausejour  is 
now  Fort  Cumberland." 

"  So  fades  the  glory  of  France  from  Acadie  — 
forever !  "  I  murmured,  weighed  down  with  pres- 
cience. 

"  Just  as  it  was  fading,"  continued  Grul,  with  a 
hint  of  the  cynic  in  his  voice,  "  your  cousin, 
Marc  de  Mer,  came  from  Quebec  with  despatches. 
The  garrison  was  marching  out.  He,  being  al- 
ready out,  judged  it  unnecessary  to  go  in.  He 


154  A   Sister  to  Evangeline 

took  boat  down  Chignecto  water,  and  up  through 
Minas  to  Grand  Pre.  Here  he  busied  himself  with 
your  uncle's  affairs,  laying  aside  his  uniform  and 
passing  unmolested  as  a  villager. 

"  For  a  little  there  was  stillness.  Then  the 
great  doom  fell. 

"  To  every  settlement  went  English  battalions. 
What  I  saw  at  Grand  Pre  is  what  others  saw  at 
Annapolis,  Piziquid,  Baie  Verte.  An  English 
colonel,  one  Winslow,  smooth  and  round  and 
rosy  of  countenance,  angry  and  anxious,  little  in 
love  with  his  enterprise,  summoned  the  men  of 
Grand  Pre  to  meet  him  in  the  chapel  and  hear  the 
last  orders  of  the  king.  There  had  been  "  last 
orders"  before,  and  they  had  exploded  harmlessly 
enough.  The  men  of  Grand  Pre  went  —  and 
your  cousin  Marc,  having  a  restless  curiosity, 
went  with  them.  Thereupon  the  doors  were  shut. 
They  were  as  rats  in  a  trap,  a  ring  of  fire  about 
them. 

"  They  learned  the  king's  decree  clearly  enough. 
They  were  to  be  put  on  ships,  — they,  their  fami- 
lies, such  household  gear  as  there  might  be  place 
for,  —  and  carried  very  far  from  their  native  fields, 
and  scattered  among  strangers  of  an  alien  speech 
and  faith. 

"  Well,  the  mountains  had  fallen  upon  them. 
Who  could  move  ?  They  lay  in  the  chapel,  and  their 
hearts  sweat  blood.  Daily  their  weeping  women, 


Beausejour,  and  After  155 

their  wide-eyed  children,  came  bringing  food. 
But  the  ships  were  not  ready.  The  agony  has 
dragged  all  summer.  At  last  two  small  ship-loads 
are  gone ;  the  crowd  is  less  in  the  chapel ;  some 
houses  stand  empty  in  the  village,  waiting  to 
burn.  The  year  grows  old;  the  task  is  nearly 
done." 

There  was  a  dark  silence. 

"Has  my  cousin  Marc  gone  yet?"  I  asked 
heavily. 

"  He  waits  and  wastes  in  the  chapel." 
"And  my  almost-father,  Father  Fafard?" 
"  No,"  said  Grul,  "  his  trouble  is  but  for  others. 
He  has  ever  counselled  men  to  keep  their  oaths. 
He  has  opposed  a  face  of  steel  to  Quebec   in- 
trigue.    The  English  reverence  him.     He  blesses 
those  who  are  taken  away.     He  comforts  those 
who  wait." 

Of  Yvonne  I  had  no  excuse  for  asking  more. 
What  more  I  would  know  I  must  go  and  learn. 
To  go  and  learn  I  must  get  strong.  To  get  strong 
I  must  sleep.  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall. 


Chapter    XXII 
Grul's  Case 

ON  the  following  day,  being  alone  all  day,  I 
walked  out,  shaking  at  first,  but  with  a 
step  growing  rapidly  assured.  Not  far  from  the 
cave  I  passed  a  clear  pool,  and  saw  my  face  amid 
the  branches  leaning  over  it.  A  pretty  cavalier, 
I  thought,  to  go  a-wooing.  A  little  further  on  I 
came  to  a  secluded  cabin,  where  a  young  woman 
bent  over  the  wash-tub  in  the  sunny  doorway.  I 
went  up  and  saluted  her  courteously.  The  alarm 
died  from  her  face,  and  compassion  melted  there 
instead. 

"  I  have  been  long  wounded,  in  the  woods,"  I 
said.  "  Give  me,  I  pray  you,  the  charity  of  a  cup 
of  milk,  and  lend  me  your  scissors  and  a  glass." 

At  this  the  compassion  ran  away  in  laughter, 
and  she  cried  merrily: 

"  Sit  here  on  the  stoop,  monsieur,  till  I  get  them 
for  you." 

"  Plainly,"  thought  I,  "  you  have  not  husband  or 
brother  in  the  chapel  at  Grand  Pre  !  " 

156 


Grill's  Case  157 

On  her  return  she  answered  as  it  were  straight 
to  my  thought. 

"  My  man's  in  the  woods  !  "  she  said,  with  pride. 
"  And  he's  all  safe.  They  didn't  catch  him" 

"  You  may  well  thank  God  for  that,  madame  !  " 
said  I  gravely,  drinking  the  milk  with  relish  and 
setting  myself  assiduously  to  my  toilet.  My  hair 
of  course  I  could  do  little  with, —  I  was  no  bar- 
ber's apprentice.  The  long,  straight,  lustreless 
black  locks  hung  down  over  my  collar,  framing 
lugubriously  a  face  to  scare  hunger  from  a  feast. 
But  there  was  enough  of  it  to  be  persuaded  into 
covering  the  patches  and  scars. 

My  beard,  however,  proved  interesting.  With 
infinite  pains  I  trimmed  it  to  a  courtly  point,  and 
decided  it  would  pass  muster.  It  was  not  unlike 
my  uncle's  —  and  the  Sieur  de  Briart  was  ever, 
in  my  eyes,  an  example  of  all  that  was  to  be 
admired.  The  success  of  my  efforts  was  attested 
by  the  woman's  growing  respect.  She  now  recog- 
nized me  for  a  gentleman,  and  brought  me  a  dish 
of  curds,  and  bustled  with  civilities  till  I  went. 

I  arrived  back  at  the  cave  in  such  good  fettle 
that  I  felt  another  day  would  see  me  ripe  for  any 
venture.  But  I  was  tired,  and  slept  so  soundly 
that  I  knew  not  when  my  host  came  in. 

In  the  morning  he  was  there,  getting  ready  a 
savory  breakfast.  When  I  proposed  my  enter- 
prise for  the  day,  he  said,  very  wisely: 


158  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  If  you  think  you're  fit  to-day,  perhaps  you 
may  almost  be  so  to-morrow.  Wait.  Don't  bungle 
a  great  matter  by  a  little  haste  !  " 

So  I  curbed  my  chafing  eagerness,  and  waited. 
He  rested  at  home  all  day,  and  we  talked  much. 
What  was  said,  however,  was  for  the  most  part  not 
pertinent  to  this  record.  Only  one  short  reach  of 
the  conversation  lives  in  my  memory  —  but  that  is 
etched  with  fire. 

It  came  in  this  way.  One  question  had  led  to 
another,  till  at  last  I  asked : 

"Why  do  you  so  hate  La  Game?"  and  was 
abashed  at  my  boldness  in  asking. 

He  sprang  up  and  left  the  cave ;  and  left  me 
cursing  my  stupidity.  It  was  an  hour  ere  he 
came  back,  but  he  was  calm,  and  seated  himself 
as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  I  had  thought,"  said  he,  in  an  even  voice, 
'•'  that  if  I  were  to  speak  of  that  the  walls  of  this 
cave  would  cry  out  upon  me  for  vengeance  de- 
layed. But  I  have  considered,  and  a  little  I  will 
tell  you.  You  must  know ;  for  the  hour  will 
come  when  you  will  help  me  in  my  vengeance,  and 
you  might  weaken,  for  you  do  not  comprehend 
the  mad  sweetness  of  hate.  You  are  born  for  a 
great  happiness  or  a  great  sorrow,  and  either 
destiny  may  make  one  blunt  to  hate. 

"  I  was  a  poor  gentleman  of  Blois,  part  fop,  part 
fantastical  scholar,  a  dabbler  in  magic,  and  a  lover 


Grul's  Case  159 

of  women.  My  nature  pulled  two  ways.  I  was 
alone  in  the  world,  save  for  a  little  sister,  beauti- 
ful, just  come  to  womanhood,  whom  I  loved  as 
daughter  and  sister  both.  She  thought  me  the 
wonderful  among  men.  It  chanced  that  at  last  I 
knew  another  love.  A  woman,  the  wife  of  a 
witless  pantaloon  of  the  neighbourhood,  ensnared 
all  my  wits,  till  I  saw  life  only  in  her  eyes.  Her 
husband  came  upon  us  in  her  garden  —  and  for 
his  reproaches  I  beat  him  cruelly.  But  he,  though 
not  a  man,  was  not  all  fool.  For  loving  his  wife 
he  could  not  punish  me  —  I  being  stronger  and 
more  popular  than  he ;  but  he  knew  that  for  theft 
the  law  would  hang  a  man.  He  hid  a  treasure  of 
jewels,  and  with  a  nice  cunning  fixed  the  crime  upon 
me.  It  was  clear  as  daylight,  so  that  almost  myself 
believed  myself  guilty.  In  a  foul,  reeking  cell  in 
the  city  wall  I  awaited  judgment  and  the  penalty. 

"  A  confession  makes  the  work  of  the  judges 
easier,  and  as  I  would  not  confess  I  was  to  be  tor- 
tured—  when  the  Court  was  ready;  all  in  good 
time. 

"  At  Blois  was  a  young  blade  renowned  no  less 
for  his  conquests  of  women  than  for  his  ill- 
favoured  face.  His  ugliness  prevailed  where  the 
beauty  of  other  men  found  virtue  an  impregnable 
wall  against  it.  He  courted  my  sister.  She  re- 
pulsed him.  It  got  about  and  shamed  him.  Then 
(I  this  while  in  prison,  and  she  helpless)  he  laid 


160  A   Sister  to  Evangeline 

a  public  wager  with  his  fellows  that  he  would  have 
her  innocence. 

"  He  told  her  I  was  to  be  tortured.  After  a  time 
he  told  her  he  could  save  me  from  that  extremity. 
This  thought  worked  for  a  time  upon  her  lonely 
anguish.  Then  he  swore  he  would  save  me  — 
but  at  a  price. 

"  At  last  the  price  was  paid.  He  won  his  wager. 
On  the  day  that  I  was  tortured  she  killed  herself 
before  the  judges.  He,  astonished,  fled  to  Italy, 
hid  in  a  monastery,  and  dedicated  himself  to  the 
missions  of  the  New  World. 

"  The  judges  were,  after  all,  men.  They  said  the 
evidence  against  me  was  insufficient.  They  set 
me  free,  as  an  avenger. 

"  I  have  not  been  in  haste.  The  man  has  grown 
more  evil  year  by  year ;  so  I  have  waited.  I  will 
not  send  him  to  his  account  till  the  score  is  full. 
The  deepest  hell  must  be  ready,  and  gape  for  him. 
Meanwhile,  his  soul  has  dwelt  all  these  years  alone 
with  fear.  He  is  a  brave  man,  but  he  knows  I 
wait  —  he  knows  not  for  what ;  and  he  sweats 
and  is  afraid  !  " 

He  told  the  story  simply,  quietly;  but  there 
was  madness  in  his  voice.  The  unspeakable  thing 
choked  me.  I  got  up. 

"  It  is  enough !  "  said  I.  "  I  will  not  fail  you 
when  you  need  me." 

But  I  went  out  into  the  air  for  a  little. 


Chapter   XXIII 
At  Gaspereau  Lower  Ford 

ON  the  following  day,  being  Tuesday,  Novem- 
ber 1 6,  1755,  and  my  twenty-seventh  birth- 
day, I  went  down  to  Grand  Pre.  I  am  thus  precise 
about  the  date,  for  I  felt  as  I  set  forth  that  the 
issues  of  life  and  death  hung  upon  my  going. 
Right  here,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  a  very  knife- 
edge  of  a  day,  which  should  sever  and  allot  to  me 
for  all  the  future  my  part  of  joy  or  ruin.  Surely, 
thought  I,  —  to  justify  my  expectation  of  colossal 
events,  —  I  have  not  lain  these  long  months  dead, 
that  action,  once  more  started,  should  dribble  like 
a  spent  stream. 

Therefore  I  went,  like  a  careful  strategist, 
equipped  with  all  the  knowledge  Grul  could  give. 
I  had  planned  how  to  reach  Father  Fafard,  and 
through  him  how  to  reach  Yvonne.  And  as  the 
day  was  to  be  a  great  one,  I  thought  well  it 
should  be  a  long  one.  I  set  out  upon  the  palest 
promise  of  daybreak. 

My  strength,  under  one  compelling  purpose,  had 
161 


162  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

come  back ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  saw  events 
and  their  chances  with  radiating  clearness.  So  up- 
strung  were  my  nerves  that  the  long  tramp  seemed 
over  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  found  myself,  almost 
with  surprise,  at  the  lower  ford  of  the  Gaspereau, 
just  under  the  hill  which  backs  Grand  Pre.  Here 
was  the  thick  wood  wherein  I  planned  to  lie  perdu, 
in  the  event  of  dangerous  passers.  In  a  little  while 
there  came  in  view  a  woman,  heavy-eyed  and  di- 
shevelled, carrying  a  basket  of  new-baked  barley 
bread,  very  sweet  to  smell.  It  was  clear  she  was 
one  with  an  interest  in  the  prisoners  at  the  chapel. 
In  such  a  case  I  could  have  no  fear  of  stumbling 
upon  a  traitor.  I  stepped  out  to  her. 

"  Would  that  he,  too,"  said  I  significantly, 
"  had  gone  to  the  woods  in  time !  " 

Her  eyes  ran  over  with  the  ready  and  waiting 
tears;  but  she  jerked  her  apron  jealously  over  the 
loaves,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  touch  of  resent- 
ment, as  if  to  say,  "  Why  had  you  such  foresight, 
and  not  he?  " 

"  He  went  to  hear  the  reading,  and  they  took 
him,"  she  moaned.  "  And  who  will  keep  the  little 
ones  from  starving  in  the  winter  coming  on?  " 

"  It  is  where  I,  too,  would  be  now  —  in  the 
chapel  prison  yonder,"  said  I  gently.  "  But  I  lay 
in  the  woods,  wounded,  too  sick  to  go  to  the  read- 
ing, so  I  escaped." 

The  resentment  faded  out.     She  saw  that  I  was 


At  Gaspereau  Lower  Ford         163 

not  one  of  those  who  shamed  her  husband's  cre- 
dulity. I  might  have  been  caught  too,  had  I  been 
given  the  same  chance. 

"  For  the  little  ones,  I  pray  you  accept  this  sil- 
ver, and  count  it  a  loan  to  your  husband  in  his 
prison,"  said  I,  slipping  two  broad  Spanish  pieces 
into  her  hand. 

She  looked  grateful  and  astonished,  but  had  no 
words  ready. 

"  And  do,  I  beg  of  you,  a  kindness  to  one  in 
bitter  need  of  it,"  I  went  on.  "  You  know  Father 
Fafard  ?  " 

Her  face  lightened  with  love. 

"  He  grieves  for  me,  thinking  me  dead,"  said  I. 
"  Tell  him,  I  beg  of  you,  that  one  who  loves  him 
waits  to  see  him  in  the  wood  by  the  lower  ford." 

Her  face  clouded  with  suspicion. 

"  How  shall  I  know  —  how  shall  he  know  — 
you  are  honest?  "  she  asked. 

I  was  troubled. 

"  You  must  judge  by  your  woman's  wit,"  said  I. 
"  And  he  will  come.  He  fears  no  one.  But  no, 
tell  him  Paul  Grande  waits  at  the  lower  ford." 

"  The  traitor!  "  she  blazed  out;  and,  recoiling, 
hurled  the  money  in  my  face.  It  stung  strangely. 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  I,  in  a  low  voice.  "  But 
as  you  will.  Tell  him,  if  you  will,  that  Paul 
Grande,  the  traitor,  waits  for  him  at  the  lower  ford. 
But  if  you  do  not  tell  him,  be  sure  he  will  not  soon 


164  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

forgive  you.  And  for  the  money,  he  shall  keep  it 
for  your  children  —  and  you  will  be  sorry  to  have 
unjustly  accused  me." 

She  laughed,  with  bitter  mockery,  and  turned 
away. 

"  But  I  will  tell  him ;  that  can  do  no  harm,"  she 
said.  "  I'll  tell  him  the  traitor  who  loves  him 
waits  at  the  ford." 

I  withdrew  into  the  wood,  beyond  all  reason 
pained  at  the  injustice. 

The  unpleasant  peasant  woman  was  as  good  as 
her  word,  however;  for  in  little  more  than  the 
space  of  an  hour  I  saw  Father  Fafard  approach- 
ing. Plainly  he  had  come  hot  upon  the  instant. 

"  My  dear,  dear  boy !  Where  have  you  been, 
and  what  suffered?"  he  cried,  catching  me  hard 
by  the  two  arms,  and  looking  into  my  eyes.  ' 

"  It  was  Grul  saved  me,"  said  I. 

Beyond  earshot,  deep  in  the  wood,  where  no 
wind  hindered  the  noon  sun  from  warming  a  little 
open  glade,  I  told  my  story  briefly. 

"  Paul,"  said  he,  when  I  had  finished,  "  my  heart 
has  now  the  first  happiness  it  has  known  through 
all  these  dreadful  months.  But  you  must  slip  out 
of  this  doomed  country  without  an  hour's  delay. 
Quebec,  of  course  !  And  then,  when  an  end  is 
made  here,  I  will  join  you.  Have  you  money  for 
the  journey?  " 

I  laughed  softly. 


At  Gaspereau  Lower  Ford         165 

"  My  plans  are  not  quite  formed.  I  must  see 
Yvonne.  Will  you  fetch  her  to  me?  " 

He  rose  in  anger  —  a  little  forced,  I  thought. 

"  No  !  "  said  he. 

"  Then,  I  beseech  you,  give  her  a  message 
from  me,  that  I  may  see  her  for  a  little  this  very 
day." 

"  Paul,"  he  cried  passionately,  "  it  is  a  sin  to 
talk  of  it.  She  has  pledged  her  troth.  She  is  at 
peace.  I  will  not  have  her  disturbed." 

"  Does  she  love  him?  "  I  asked. 

"I  —  I  suppose  so.  Or  she  will,  doubtless,"  he 
stammered. 

"  Oh,  doubtless  !  "  said  I.  "  And  meanwhile, 
does  she  show  readiness  to  carry  out  her  prom- 
ise? Does  she  listen  kindly  to  her  impatient 
lover  —  her  anxious  father?" 

"  The  Englishman  has  displeased  her,  for  a 
time,"  said  he,  "  but  that  will  pass.  She  knows  the 
duty  of  obedience ;  she  respects  the  plighted  word. 
There  can  be  but  one  ending ;  though  you  may  suc- 
ceed in  making  her  very  unhappy  —  for  a  time." 

"  I  will  make  her  very  happy,"  I  said  quietly, 
"  so  long  as  time  endures  for  her  and  me." 

He  flashed  round  upon  me  with  sharp  scorn. 

"What  can  you  do  for  her?  You,  hiding  for 
your  life,  the  ruined  upholder  of  a  lost  cause  ! 
Here  she  is  safe,  protected,  wealth  and  security 
before  her.  And  with  you  ?  " 


166  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Life,  I  think !  "  said  I,  rising  too,  and  stretch- 
ing out  my  arms.  "  But  listen,  father,"  I  went 
on  more  lightly.  "  I  am  not  so  helpless.  I  have 
some  little  rentes  in  Montreal,  you  know.  And 
moreover,  I  am  not  planning  to  carry  her  off 
to-night.  By  no  means  anything  so  finely  irregu- 
lar. I  am  not  ready.  Only,  see  her  I  will  before 
I  go.  If  you  will  not  help  me,  I  will  stay  about 
this  place,  about  your  house  indeed,  till  I  meet 
her.  That  is  all.  If  you  dote  upon  my  going, 
you  know  the  way  to  speed  me." 

His  kind,  round  face  puckered  anxiously.  But 
he  hit  upon  a  compromise. 

"  I  will  have  no  hand  in  it,"  said  he.  "  But  if 
you  are  resolved  to  stay,  you  may  as  well  find  her 
without  loss  of  time.  The  house  we  occupy  is 
crowded,  and  she  affects  a  solitary  mood.  She 
walks  over  the  hill  and  down  this  way,  of  an  even- 
ing, to  visit  some  unhappy  ones  along  by  the 
river.  You  may  see  her,  perhaps,  to-night." 

I  grasped  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  but  he  drew  it 
away,  vexed  at  himself. 

"  We  will  talk  of  other  things  now,"  I  said  softly. 
"  But  do  not  be  angry  if  I  say  I  love  you,  father." 

He  smiled  with  an  air  of  reproach ;  and  there- 
after talk  we  did  through  hours,  save  for  a  little 
time  when  he  was  absent  fetching  me  a  meal.  All 
that  Grul  had  told  me  of  the  ruin  of  the  French 
cause  he  told  me  in  another  colour,  and  more 


At  Gaspereau  Lower  Ford         167 

besides  of  the  doom  of  the  Acadians  —  but  upon 
Yvonne's  name  we  touched  no  more  by  so  much 
as  the  lightest  breath. 

At  my  cousin  Marc's  rashness  in  going  to  the 
chapel  he  glanced  with  some  severity,  grieving 
for  the  sorrow  of  the  young  wife  at  Quebec.  But 
for  the  English  he  had  many  good  words  —  they 
were  pitiful,  he  said,  in  the  act  of  carrying  out 
cruel  orders.  And  they  neither  robbed  nor  terror- 
ized. Not  they,  said  he,  but  a  wicked  priest  and 
the  intriguers  of  a  rotten  government  at  Quebec, 
were  the  scourge  of  Acadie. 

When  the  sun  got  low  over  the  Gaspereau  Ridge 
he  called  to  mind  some  duties  too  long  forgotten, 
and  bade  me  farewell  with  a  loving  wistfulness.  I 
think,  however,  it  was  the  imminent  coming  of 
Yvonne  that  drove  him  away.  He  feared  lest  he 
should  meet  her,  and  in  seeming  to  know  of  my 
purpose  seem  to  sanction  it.  I  could  not  help  be- 
lieving in  my  heart  that  in  this  matter,  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  in  his  priesthood,  the  kind  cure's 
conscience  was  a  little  tremulous  in  its  admoni- 
tions. 

I  watched  him  out  of  sight;  and  then,  posting 
myself  in  a  coign  of  vantage  behind  a  great  willow 
that  overhung  the  stream,  I  waited  with  a  thump- 
ing heart,  and  with  a  misgiving  that  all  other 
organs  within  my  frame  had  slumped  away  to 
nothing  but  a  meagre  and  contemptible  jelly. 


Chapter  XXIV 
"If  You  Love  Me,  Leave  Me" 

TILL  the  flames  of  amber  and  copper  along  the 
Gaspereau  Ridge  had  temperately  dimin- 
ished to  a  lucidity  of  pale  violet,  I  waited  and 
watched.  Then  all  at  once  the  commotion  in  my 
bosom  came  to  an  icy  stop. 

A  light,  white  form  descended  from  the  ridge  to 
the  ford.  I  needed  not  the  black  lace  shawl  about 
the  head  and  shoulders  to  tell  me  it  was  she,  be- 
fore a  feature  or  a  line  could  be  distinguished. 
The  blood  at  every  tingling  finger-tip  thrilled  the 
announcement  of  her  coming. 

I  grasped  desperately  at  all  I  had  planned  to 
say  —  now  slipping  from  me.  I  felt  that  she  was 
intrenched  in  a  fixed  resolve ;  and  I  felt  that  not  my 
life  alone,  —  ready  to  become  a  very  small  matter, 

—  but   hers,   her   true   life,  depended   upon   my 
breaking  that  resolve.    Yet  how  was  I  to  conquer 
her,  I  who  at  sight  of  her  was  at  her  feet?    I  knew 

—  with  that  inner  knowledge  by  which  I  know  God 
is  —  that  she,  the  whitest  of  women,  intended  un- 

168 


"If  You  Love  Me,  Leave  Me"     169 

wittingly  a  sin  against  her  body  in  wedding  a  man 
unloved  —  that  she,  in  my  eyes  the  wisest,  most 
clear-visioned  of  women,  contemplated  a  folly 
beyond  words.  But  how  could  I  so  far  escape  my 
reverence  for  her  as  to  convict  her  of  this  folly 
and  this  sin? 

But  now  all  my  thoughts,  words,  pleas,  sprayed 
into  air.  She  came  —  and  I  stepped  into  her 
path,  whispering: 

"  Yvonne ! " 

She  was  almost  within  reach  of  my  hand,  had  I 
stretched  it  out,  —  but  I  dared  not  touch  her. 
She  gave  the  faintest  cry.  Taken  at  so  sudden  a 
disadvantage,  she  had  not  time  to  mask  herself, 
and  her  great  eyes  told  for  one  heart-beat  what  I 
knew  her  lips  would  have  denied.  Her  fingers 
locked  and  unlocked  where  they  caught  the  black 
mantilla  across  her  bosom.  She  stood  for  an 
instant  motionless ;  then  glanced  back  up  the  hill 
with  a  desperate  fear. 

"  They  will  see  you  !  "  she  half  sobbed.  "  You 
will  be  caught  and  thrown  into  prison.  Oh,  hide 
yourself,  hide  at  once  !  " 

"  Not  without  you,"  I  interrupted. 

"Then  with  me  !  "  she  cried  pantingly,  and  led 
the  way,  almost  running,  back  of  the  willow,  down 
a  thread  of  a  path,  to  a  hidden  place  behind  a  bend 
of  the  stream.  Glancing  back  at  the  last  moment, 
I  saw  a  squad  of  soldiers  coming  over  the  hill. 


170  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

As  soon  as  she  felt  that  I  was  safely  out  of  sight 
and  earshot,  she  turned  and  faced  me  with  a 
sudden  swift  anger. 

"Why  have  you  done  this?  Why  have  you 
forced  me  to  this?"  she  cried. 

"Because  I  love  you,"  said  I  slowly.  "Be- 
cause "  — 

She  drew  herself  up. 

"  You  do  not  know,"  said  she,  "  what  I  have 
promised  to  Monsieur  Anderson.  I  have  promised 
to  redeem  my  word  to  him  when  he  can  show  you 
to  me  safe  and  well." 

I  laughed  with  sheer  joy. 

"  He  shall  wait  long  then,"  said  I.  "  Sooner 
than  he  should  claim  the  guerdon  I  will  fall  upon 
my  sword,  though  my  will  is,  rather,  to  live  for 
you,  beloved." 

"  Had  the  soldiers  seen  you  and  taken  you," 
said  she,  in  her  eagerness  forgetting  her  disguise, 
"  he  would  have  been  able  to  claim  me  to-morrow. 
They  may  yet  take  you.  Oh,  go,  go  at  once  !  " 

"They  shall  not  take  me.  Now  that  I  know 
you  love  me,  Yvonne,  —  for  you  have  betrayed 
it,  —  my  life  is,  next  to  yours,  the  most  precious 
thing  to  me  in  the  world.  I  go  at  once  to 
Quebec  to  settle  my  affairs  and  prepare  a  home 
for  you.  Then  I  will  come,  —  it  will  be  but  in  a 
month  or  two,  when  this  trouble  is  overpast,  — 
and  I  will  take  you  away." 


"If  You  Love  Me,  Leave  Me"     171 

Her  face,  all  her  form,  drooped  with  a  sort  of 
weariness,  as  if  her  will  had  been  too  long  taxed. 

"  You  will  find  me  the  wife  of  George  Ander- 
son," she  said  faintly. 

It  was  as  if  I  had  been  struck  upon  the  temples. 
My  mouth  opened,  and  shut  again  without  words. 
First  rage,  then  amazement,  then  despair,  ran 
through  me  in  hot  surges. 

"  But  —  your  promise  —  not  till  he  could  show 
me  to  you,"  I  managed  to  stammer. 

"  I  gave  it  in  good  faith,"  she  said  simply.  "  I 
can  no  longer  hold  him  off  by  it,  for  I  have  seen 
you  safe  and  well." 

"  I  am  not  safe,  as  you  may  soon  see,"  said  I 
fiercely,  "  and  not  long  shall  I  be  well,  as  you  will 
learn."  Then,  perceiving  that  this  was  a  sorry 
kind  of  threat,  and  little  manly,  I  made  haste  to- 
amend  it. 

"  No,  no,"  I  cried,  "  forget  that !  But  stick  to. 
the  letter  of  your  promises,  I  beseech  you.  Why 
push  to  go  back  of  that?  Unless,"  I  added, 
with  bitterness,  "  you  want  the  excuse !  " 

She  shuddered,  and  forgot  to  resent  the  brutality. 

"Go!"  she  pleaded.  "Save  yourself — for 
my  sake  —  Paul !  "  And  her  voice  broke. 

"That  you  may  wed  with  the  cleare«-  con- 
science !  "  I  went  on,  merciless  in  my  pain. 

She  crouched  down,  a  drear  and  pitiful  figure, 
on  the  slope  of  sod,  and  wept  silently,  her  hands. 


172  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

over  her  eyes.  I  looked  at  her  helplessly.  I 
wanted  to  throw  myself  at  her  feet.  Then  the 
right  thing  seemed  that  I  should  gather  her  up  into 
my  arms  —  but  I  dared  not  touch  her.  At  last 
I  said,  doubtfully: 

"  But  —  you  love  me  !  " 

No  answer. 

"  You  do  love  me,  Yvonne?  " 

She  lifted  her  face,  and  with  a  childish 
bravery  dashed  off  the  tears,  first  with  one  hand, 
then  the  other.  She  looked  me  straight  in  the 
eyes. 

"  I  do  not"  said  she,  daring  the  lie.  "  But  you 
—  you  disturb  me  !  " 

This  astonishing  remark  did  not  shake  my  con- 
fidence, but  it  threw  me  out  of  my  argument.  I 
shifted  ground. 

"  You  do  not  love  him  !  "  I  exclaimed,  lamely 
enough. 

"  I  respect  him  !  "  said  she,  cool  now,  and  con- 
trolling the  situation.  I  felt  that  I  had  lost  my 
one  moment  of  advantage  —  the  moment  when  I 
should  have  taken  her  into  my  arms.  Not  timid- 
ity, but  reverence,  had  balked  me.  My  heart  turned, 
as  it  were,  in  my  breast,  with  a  hot,  dumb  fury  — 
at  myrelf. 

"  The  respect  that  cannot  breed  love  for  a  lover 
will  soon  breed  contempt,"  said  I,  holding  myself 
hard  to  mere  reasoning. 


"If  You  Love  Me,  Leave  Me"      173 

She  ignored  this  idle  answer.  She  arose  and 
came  close  up  to  me. 

"  Paul,"  she  said,  scarcely  above  a  whisper, 
"  will  you  save  yourself  for  my  sake  ?  If  I  say  — 
if  I  say  that  I  do  love  you  a  little  —  that  if  it 
could  have  been  different  —  been  you  —  I  should 
have  been  —  oh,  glad,  glad  !  —  then  will  you  go, 
for  my  sake  ?  " 

"  No,  no  indeed !  "  shouted  the  heart  within  me 
at  this  confession.  But  with  hope  came  cunning. 
I  temporized. 

"  And  if  I  go,  for  your  sake,"  I  asked,  "  when 
do  you  propose  to  become  the  wife  of  the  English- 
man?" 

"  Not  for  a  long  time,  I  will  promise  you,"  said 
she  earnestly.  "  Not  for  a  year  —  no,  not  for 
two  years,  if  you  like.  Oh,"  —  with  a  catch  in  her 
voice,  —  "  not  till  I  can  feel  differently  about  you, 
Paul !  "  And  she  hung  her  head  at  the  admis- 
sion. 

"  Dear,"  I  said,  "  most  dear  and  wonderful, 
can  you  not  even  now  see  how  monstrous  it  would 
be  if  I  should  seem,  for  a  moment,  to  relinquish 
you  to  another?  Soul  and  body  must  tell  you 
you  are  mine,  as  I  am  yours.  But  your  eyes  are 
shut.  You  are  a  maid,  and  you  do  not  realize 
what  it  is  that  I  would  save  you  from.  It  is  your 
very  whiteness  blinds  you,  so  that  you  do  not  see 
the  intolerableness  of  what  they  would  thrust  upon 


174  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

you.  For  you  it  would  be  a  sin.  You  do  not  see 
it  —  but  you  would  see  it,  awaking  to  the  truth 
when  it  was  too  late.  From  the  horror  of  that 
awakening  I  must  save  you.  I  must "  — 

But  she  did  not  see  ;  though  her  brain  must  have 
comprehended,  her  body  did  not;  and  therefore 
there  could  be  no  real  comprehension  of  a  matter 
so  vital.  She  brushed  aside  my  passionate  argu- 
ment, and  came  close  up  to  me. 

"  Paul,  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  think  I  know  the 
beauty  of  sacrifice.  I  am  sure  I  know  what  is 
right.  You  cannot  shake  me.  I  know  what  must 
be  in  the  end.  But  if  you  will  go  and  save  your- 
self, I  promise  that  the  end  shall  be  far  off  —  so 
that  he  may  grow  angry,  and  perhaps  even  set  me 
free,  as  I  have  almost  asked  him  to  do.  But  now 
this  is  good-by,  dear.  You  shall  go.  You  will 
not  disobey  me.  But  you  may  say  good-by  to  me. 
And  as  once  you  kissed  my  feet  (they  have  been 
proud  ever  since),  so  — though  it  is  a  sin,  I  know 
—  you  may  kiss  my  lips,  just  once,  —  and  go." 

How  little  she  knew  what  she  was  doing  !  Even 
as  she  spoke  she  was  in  my  arms.  The  next 
moment  she  was  trembling  violently,  and  then  she 
strove  to  tear  herself  away.  But  I  was  inexorable, 
and  folded  her  close  for  yet  an  instant  longer,  till 
she  was  still.  I  raised  my  head  and  pushed  her  a 
little  away,  holding  her  by  both  arms  that  I  might 
see  her  face. 


u  If  You  Love  Me,  Leave  Me"      175 

"  Oh,"  she  gasped,  "  you  are  cruel !  I  did  not 
mean  that  you  should  kiss  me  so  —  so  hard." 

"  My  —  wife  !  "  I  whispered  irrelevantly. 

"  Let  me  go,  sir,"  she  said,  with  her  old  imperi- 
ous air,  trying  to  remove  herself  from  my  grasp 
upon  her  arms.  But  I  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  obey  her.  Then  her  face  saddened  in  a  way 
that  made  me  afraid. 

"  You  have  done  wrong,  Paul,"  she  said 
heavily.  "I  meant  you  should  just  touch  me  and 
go.  You  took  unmanly  advantage.  Alas  !  I  fear 
I  have  a  bad  heart.  I  cannot  be  so  angry  as  I 
ought.  But  I  am  resolved.  You  know,  now,  that 
I  love  you ;  that  no  other  can  ever  have  my  love. 
But  that  knowledge  is  thejend  of  all  between  us, 
even  of  the  friendship  which  might,  one  day,  have 
comforted  me.  Go,  I  command  you,  if  you  would 
not  have  me  an  unhappy  woman  forever !  " 

She  wrenched  herself  free.  Then,  seeing  me, 
as  she  thought,  hesitate  for  an  answer,  she  added 
firmly : 

"  I  love  you  !  But  I  love  honour  more,  and 
obedience  to  the  right,  and  my  plighted  word.  Go  !" 

"  I  will  not  go,  my  beloved,  till  you  swear  to  tell 
the  Englishman  to-morrow  that  you  love  me  and 
intend  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Listen,"  she  said.  "  If  you  do  not  go  at  once, 
I  promise  you  that  I  will  be  George  Anderson's 
wife  to-morrow." 


176  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

I  stared  at  her  dumbly.  Was  it  conceivable 
that  she  should  mean  such  madness?  Her  eyes 
were  fathomlessly  sorrowful,  her  mouth  was  set. 
How  was  I  to  decide? 

But  fortune  elected  to  save  me  the  decision. 
A  sharp  voice  came  from  the  bank  above  — 

"  I  arrest  you,  in  the  king's  name  !  " 

We  glanced  up.  There  stood  a  squad  of  red- 
coats, a  spruce  young  officer  at  their  head. 


Chapter  XXV 
Over  Gaspereau  Ridge 

MONSIEUR  WALDRON !  "  cried  Yvonne 
faintly. 

"You  here,  Mademoiselle  de  Larnourie !  "  he 
exclaimed,  with  a  surprise  that  his  courtesy  could 
not  quite  conceal. 

"  This,  monsieur,"  she  said,  in  a  brave  confu- 
sion, "  is  my  friend,  here  for  a  moment  because 
of  my  foolish  desire  to  see  him.  I  beg  you  "  — 

But  he  interrupted,  reluctantly  enough : 

"  It  hurts  me,  mademoiselle,  to  have  to  say  that 
your  friend  is  my  prisoner.  If  I  were  free  to 
please  you,  he  should  go  free." 

The  case  was  clearly  beyond  mending,  so  I 
would  not  condescend  to  evasion. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  but  surrender,  monsieur," 
said  I  civilly,  "under  the  conclusive  arbitrament 
of  your  muskets.  Here  is  my  sword."  He  took 
it,  and  I  went  on : 

"  I  am  Captain  Paul  Grande,  of  the  French  army 
in  Canada." 

177 


178  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

His  face  changed. 

"  A  spy,  then  !  "  he  said  harshly. 

"  You  insult  with  impunity,"  I  began.  "  An  un- 
armed "  — 

But  Yvonne  broke  in,  her  eyes  flaming : 

"  How  dare  you,  sir,  insult  me  ?  That  is  not  to 
be  done  with  impunity,  I  think." 

The  man  looked  puzzled.  Then  his  face  cleared 
somewhat. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mademoiselle,"  he  said 
slowly,  looking  from  her  face  to  mine.  "  I  begin 
to  understand  a  little,  I  think.  There  is  a.  very 
sufficient  reason  why  a  French  officer  might  ap- 
pear in  an  enemy's  country  without  his  uniform 
—  that  country  being  Grand  Pre — and  yet  be  no 
spy!" 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour,"  said  I,  "  that 
I  am  no  spy,  but  merely  your  prisoner.  And  if 
brought  to  trial  I  will  prove  what  I  say." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  also  —  provisionally," 
he  replied,  with  a  pleasant  air.  "  I  am  the  last  to 
believe  a  gentleman  a  spy,  and  I  am  confident 
you  will  clear  yourself  of  the  unavoidable  charge. 
You  are  a  soldier.  You  must  see  it  to  be  un- 
avoidable," he  added. 

"  I  do,  monsieur,"  said  I  sorrowfully.  "  I  have 
lain  for  months,  wounded  and  delirious,  in  a  hid- 
ing-place not  far  off,  nursed  by  a  faithful  friend. 
Having  just  recovered,  I  came  here  for  a  fare- 


Over  Gaspereau  Ridge  179 

well  to  dear  friends ;  and  you  have  arrived  inoppor- 
tunely, monsieur." 

There  was  the  bitterness  of  final  despair  beneath 
the  lightness  which  I  assumed. 

"  Your  action  seems  to  me  very  pardonable,  I 
assure  you,"  said  he.  "  But  I  am  not  the  judge. 
We  must  go."  And  he  motioned  his  men  to  me. 

But  Yvonne  came  close  to  my  side  and  laid  her 
hand  lightly  on  my  arm. 

"  It  is  my  wish,  Monsieur  Waldron,"  she  said, 
"  that  Captain  Grande  should  escort  me,  with 
your  assistance,  and  that  of  your  guard  also,  if 
you  will !  " 

"Why,  certainly,  mademoiselle,  it  shall  be  as 
you  wish,"  he  said,  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile,  which 
set  her  blushing  wildly.  "  I  have  Captain  Grande's 
sword  and  his"  — 

"  And  my  word,"  said  I,  bowing. 

"And  his  parole,"  he  continued.  "I  need  in 
no  way  constrain  him  till  we  reach  the  —  the 
chapel.  I  will  lead  my  men  a  little  in  the  rear, 
and  strive  not  to  interrupt  your  conversation." 

"  I  can  never  thank  you  enough  for  your  cour- 
tesy, monsieur,"  said  I. 

So  it  came  that  a  strange  procession  marched 
up  the  Gaspereau  Ridge,  through  the  bleak  twilight. 
And  the  hilltop  drew  swiftly  near  —  and  my  last 
few  minutes  sped  —  and  I  was  dumb.  Still,  she 
was  at  my  side.  And  perhaps  my  silence  spoke. 


180  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

But  when  we  crossed  the  ridge,  and  the  chapel 
prison  appeared,  and  Yvonne's  house  some  way 
apart,  my  tongue  found  speech,  —  but  not  argu- 
ment, only  wild  entreaties,  adorations,  words  that 
made  her  body  tremble,  though  not,  alas  !  her  will. 
At  length  she  stopped. 

"  You  must  go  back  to  them  now,  Paul.  I  will 
go  on  alone.  Good-by,  dear  !  " 

"  But  we  are  not  near  the  house,"  I  stammered. 
"  Monsieur  Anderson  may  come    out  to  meet 
me.     If  he  sees  you  now,  before   I  change  my 
conditions,  how  shall  I  escape  the  instant  fulfil- 
ment of  my  promise?" 

"  But  I  am  not  safe,  surely,"  I  argued. 
"  His  testimony  can  at  once  make  you  safe," 
said  she. 

My  heart  dropped,  feeling  the  truth  of  her 
words.  I  could  say  nothing  that  I  had  not  already 
said.  Feeling  impotent,  feeling  that  utter  defeat 
had  been  hurled  upon  me  in  the  very  moment  of 
triumph,  my  brain  seemed  to  stop  working. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  was  all  that  came  through 
my  dry  lips. 

She  had  grown  much  older  in  the  last  hour. 
"  I  will  wait,  Paul,  as  I  promised  you,"  she  said 
sadly;  "one  year  —  no,  two  years  —  before  I 
redeem  my  pledge  and  become  his  wife.  That  is 
all  I  can  do  —  and  that  I  can  do.  I  choose  to 
believe  that  you  would  have  obeyed  me  and  gone 


Over  Gaspereau  Ridge  181 

away  at  once,  if  we  had  not  been  interrupted. 
Therefore  I  keep  my  promise  to  you.  It  was  not 
your  fault  that  you  were  not  permitted  to  obey 
me." 

I  was  quite  at  the  end  of  my  tether,  though  my 
resolution  rose  again  to  full  stature  on  learning  that 
I  should  have  time  —  time  to  plan  anew.  She 
held  out  her  hand.  "  Good-by,  and  God  keep 
you,  my  dear  friend  !  "  said  she  very  softly. 

I  looked  around.     The  squad  had  halted  near 
by.     Some  were  looking,  curse  them !     But  that 
most  decent  officer  had  his  back  turned,  and  was' 
intently  scanning  the  weather.     I  lifted  her  hand 
to  my  lips. 

"My — wife!"  I  muttered,  unfalteringly  obsti- 
nate. 

"  No  !  "  she  said  sadly.  "  Only  your  friend. 
Oh,  leave  me  that !  " 

And  she  was  gone,  a  Psyche  glimmering  away 
through  the  dark  which  strove  to  cling  to  her. 

I  stood  for  a  moment,  eyes  and  heart  straining 
after  her.  Then  I  turned  as  the  guard  came  up, 

"At  your  service,  monsieur,"  said  I. 


Chapter  XXVI 
The  Chapel  Prison 

BEFORE  the  door  of  the  chapel  stood  a  bent 
old  figure  hooded  in  a  red  shawl.  Mutter- 
ing, and  with  bowed  head,  it  poked  in  the  dust 
with  a  staff.  When  we  were  close  at  hand  it 
straightened  alertly;  and  old  Mother  Pe'che's 
startling  eyes  flashed  into  mine.  I  could  have 
kissed  the  strange  hawk  face,  so  glad  was  I  to  see  it. 
And  I  held  out  my  hand,  to  be  clutched  eagerly. 

"  My  blessings  be  upon  thee,  cheri  Master 
Paul !  "  she  cried. 

"Thank  you,  mother!  "  said  I.  "Your  love  is 
very  dear  to  me;  and  for  your  blessings,  I  need 
them  all." 

"  Come,  monsieur,"  said  Waldron,  at  the  steps. 

"  A  word,  a  word,"  she  begged,  half  of  him, 
half  of  me,  "  before  thou  go  in  there  and  these  old 
eyes,  perhaps,  see  thee  never  again." 

"  Grant  me  one  moment,  I  beg  you,  monsieur," 
said  I  earnestly  to  Waldron.  "  She  is  a  dear  old 
friend  and  retainer  of  my  family." 

182 


The  Chapel  Prison  183 

He  nodded,  and  turned  half  aside  in  patient  in- 
difference. 

"  Listen,"  she  whispered,  thrusting  her  face  near 
mine,  and  talking  rapidly,  that  the  guard,  who 
were  but  clumsy  with  our  French  speech,  might 
not  understand.  "Hast  thou  the  stone  safe?" 

"  Surely,"  said  I. 

"  Then  here,  take  this,"  she  muttered,  laying  a 
silken  tress  of  hair  in  my  hand.  In  the  dusk  I 
could  not  note  its  colour ;  but  I  needed  not  light 
to  tell  me  whose  it  was.  My  blood  ran  hot  and 
cold  beneath  it.  The  pulse  throbbed  furiously  in 
my  fingers  as  they  closed  upon  it.  "  I  clipped 
it  under  the  new  moon,  the  right  moon,  with  my 
own  hand,  for  thee,  Master  Paul." 

"Did  she  know  it  was  for  me?"  I  asked,  in  a 
sort  of  ecstasy. 

"  No,  no  !  "  answered  the  old  dame  impatiently; 
"  but  she  gave  it  to  me  —  laughing  because  I 
wanted  it.  I  said  that  I  was  going  far  away  with 
these  my  people,"  —  sweeping  her  hand  toward 
the  village,  —  "  while  she,  perhaps,  would  stay. 
Strangely  she  regarded  that  perhaps.  Master  Paul. 
But  here  it  is  —  and  I  have  put  a  spell  upon  it 
while  waiting  for  thee  to  come ;  and  it  will  draw, 
it  will  draw  her ;  she  cannot  let  it  go  very  far  off, 
as  long  as  she  lives.  It  is  for  thee,  cheri,  I  did 
It" 

Now,  how  I  loved  her  for  it,  even  while  deriding 


184  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  magic,  I  need  not  tell.  Yet  I  was  angry  with 
her  for  explaining.  That  made  me  seem  to  take 
a  base  advantage  in  retaining  the  treasure.  Sor- 
rowfully I  said : 

"  I  cannot  keep  it,  mother.  That  were  treason 
to  her.  I  will  have  naught  of  her  but  what  her 
own  heart  gives  me." 

And  I  held  out  the  precious  lock  to  her  again, 
yet  all  the  time  grasped  it  tightly  enough,  no 
doubt. 

"  Why,  cheri,"  she  laughed  cunningly,  "  where 
is  the  treason?  You  don't  believe  an  old  wife's 
foolish  charms !  " 

"  True,  mother,"  I  acquiesced  at  once,  relieved 
beyond  measure,  "  true,  there  can  be  no  witch- 
craft in  it  but  that  which  ever  resides  in  every  hair 
of  that  dear  head.  Not  her,  alas !  but  me,  me  it 
ensnares.  God  bless  you,  mother,  for  this  wonder- 
ful gift." 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  Master  Paul,"  she  said,  hob- 
bling briskly  off.  "  I  will  bring  thee  some  word 
often  to  the  wicket." 

"  I  am  ready  now  for  the  inside  of  these  walls, 
monsieur,"  said  I,  turning  to  Waldron,  with  a 
warm  elation  at  my  heart.  The  hair  I  had  coiled 
and  slipped  into  the  little  deerskin  pouch  wherein 
the  eye  of  Manitou  slumbered. 

A  moment  more  and  I  had  stepped  inside  the 
prison.  The  closing  and  locking  of  the  door 


The  Chapel  Prison  185 

seemed  to  me  unnecessarily  loud,  blatantly  con- 
spicuous. 

At  once  I  heard  greetings,  my  name  spoken 
on  all  sides,  heartily,  respectfully,  familiarly,  as 
might  be,  for  I  had  both  friends  and  followers  — 
many,  alas! — in  that  dolorous  company.  To 
them,  worn  with  the  sameness  of  day  upon  monot- 
onous day,  my  coming  was  an  event.  But  for  a 
little  I  chose  to  heed  no  one.  There  was  time,  I 
thought,  ahead  of  us,  more  than  we  should  know 
what  to  do  with.  As  I  could  not  possibly  speak 
to  all  at  once,  I  spoke  to  none.  I  leaned  against 
a  wooden  pillar,  looked  at  the  windows,  then  the 
altar-place,  of  the  sacred  building  which  hived  for 
me  so  many  humming  memories  of  childhood  — 
memories  rich  with  sweetness,  sharp  with  sting. 
The  place  looked  battered,  begrimed,  desecrated, 
—  yet  a  haunting  of  my  mother's  gentle  eyes  still 
hallowed  it.  To  see  them  the  better  I  covered  my 
own  eyes  with  my  hand. 

"  It  must  be  something  of  a  sorer  stroke  than 
merely  to  be  clapped  in  prison,  to  make  my 
captain  so  downcast,"  I  heard  a  cheerful  voice 
declare  close  at  my  elbow. 

"  Why,  and  that  it  is,  you  may  be  sure,  my 
brave  ferryman !  "  said  I,  looking  up  with  a  smile 
and  grasping  the  long,  gaunt  fingers  of  yellow 
Ba'tiste  Chouan.  "  I  have  my  own  reasons  for 
not  wanting  to  be  in  Grand  Pre  chapel  this  day, 


i86  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

for  all  that  it  is  especially  the  place  where  I  can 
see  most  of  my  friends." 

Straightway,  my  mood  changing,  I  moved  swiftly 
hither  and  thither,  calling  them  by  name.  There 
was  the  whole  clan  of  the  Le  Marchands,  black, 
fearless,  melancholy  for  their  flax-fields ;  the  three 
Le  Boutilliers  ;  the  brave  young  slip,  Jacques  Vio- 
let, whom  I  had  liked  as  a  boy ;  a  Landry  or  two ; 
the  lad  Petit  Joliet ;  several  of  the  restless  Labillois  ; 
long  Philibert  Trou,  the  moose-hunter  ;  and,  to  my 
regretful  astonishment,  that  wily  fox,  La  Mouche. 

"  You  here,  too !  "  I  cried,  shaking  him  by  the 
arm.  "  If  they  have  caught  you,  who  has 
escaped !  " 

"  I  came  in  on  business,  my  captain,"  said  he 
grimly. 

"A  woman  back  of  it,  monsieur,"  grunted 
Philibert,  indifferent  to  La  Mouche's  withering 
eye-stroke. 

Naturally,  I  did  not  smile.  I  met  his  brooding, 
deep  eyes  with  a  look  which  told  him  much.  I 
might,  indeed,  have  even  spoken  a  word  of  com- 
prehension ;  but  just  then  I  caught  sight  of  my 
cousin  Marc  coming  from  the  sacristy.  I  hastened 
to  greet  him  with  hand  and  heart. 

There  was  so  much  to  talk  of  between  us  two 
that  others,  understanding,  left  us  to  ourselves. 
He  told  me  of  his  little  Puritan's  grief,  far  away  in 
Quebec,  of  her  long  suspense,  and  of  how,  at  last, 


The  Chapel  Prison  187 

he  had  got  word  to  her.  "  She  is  a  woman  among 
ten  thousand,  Paul,"  said  he.  "  These  New  Eng- 
landers  are  the  people  to  breed  up  a  wife  for  a 
French  gentleman." 

I  assented  most  heartily,  for  I  had  ever  liked 
and  admired  that  white-skinned  Prudence  of  his. 
Of  my  own  affairs  I  told  him  some  things  fully, 
some  things  not  at  all ;  of  my  accident,  my  illness, 
my  sojourning  with  Grul,  everything;  but  of  my 
coming  to  the  Gaspereau  ford  and  my  capture, 
nothing  then. 

"  There  is  too  much  hanging  upon  it,  Marc," 
said  I.  "It  touches  me  too  deeply.  I  cannot  talk  of 
it  at  all  while  we  are  like  to  be  interrupted.  Let 
us  wait  for  quiet  —  when  the  rest  are  asleep." 

"  It  is  cold  here  at  night,"  said  Marc,  "  but  the 
women  have  been  allowed  to  bring  us  a  few  quilts 
and  blankets.  You  will  share  mine  —  the  gift  of 
the  good  cure.  Then  we  can  talk." 

The  early  autumnal  dark  had  been  feebly  lighted 
this  while  by  a  few  candles ;  but  candles  were  get- 
ting scarce  in  the  stricken  cottages  of  Grand  Pre, 
and  in  Grand  Pre  chapel  prison  they  were  a 
hoarded  luxury.  The  words  "  lights  out "  came 
early ;  and  Marc  and  I  laid  ourselves  in  a  corner 
of  the  sacristy  by  general  consent  reserved  to 
him. 

A  cold  glimmer  of  stars  came  in  by  the  narrow 
window,  and  I  thought  of  them  looking  down  on 


1 88  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Yvonne,  awake,  not  sleeping,  I  well  knew.  Were 
the  astrologers  right,  I  wondered.  Good  men  and 
great  had  believed  in  the  jurisdiction  of  the  stars. 
I  remembered  a  very  learned  astrologer  in  Paris, 
during  the  year  I  spent  there,  and  futilely  I  wished 
I  had  consulted  him.  But  at  the  time  I  had  been 
so  occupied  with  the  present  as  to  make  small 
question  of  the  future. 

Soon  the  sound  of  many  breathings  told  that  the 
prisoners  were  forgetting  for  a  little  their  bars  and 
walls.  In  a  whisper,  slowly,  I  told  Marc  of  my 
coming  to  Grand  Pre  in  the  spring — of  Yvonne's 
bond  to  the  Englishman  —  of  the  conversation  at 
the  hammock  —  of  the  fire,  the  scene  at  the  boat, 
the  saving  of  Anderson  —  and  of  all  that  had  just 
been  said  and  done  at  the  ford  of  the  Gaspereau. 

He  heard  me  through,  in  such  silence  that  my 
heart  sank,  fearing  he,  too,  was  against  me ;  and  I 
passionately  craved  his  support.  I  knew  the  lack 
of  it  would  no  jot  alter  my  purpose ;  but  I  loved 
him,  and  hungered  for  the  warmth  of  the  comrade 
heart. 

When  he  spoke,  however,  my  fears  straight  fell 
dead. 

"  Only  let  us  get  safe  out  of  this  coil,  Paul,  and 
we  will  let  my  Prudence  take  the  obstinate  maid 
in  hand,"  said  he,  with  an  air  that  proclaimed  all 
confidence  in  the  result.  "  You  must  remember, 
dear  old  boy,  the  inevitable  fetish  which  our 


The  Chapel  Prison  189 

French  maids  are  wont  to  make  out  of  obedience 
to  parents — a  fair  and  worshipful  virtue,  indeed, 
that  obedience,  but  not  one  to  exact  the  sacrifice 
of  a  woman's  life  —  and  of  what  is  yet  more 
sacred  to  her.  Prudence  will  make  her  under- 
stand some  things  that  you  could  not." 

I  felt  for  his  hand  and  gripped  it. 

"You  think  I  will  win  her?"  I  whispered. 
"And  you  will  stand  by  me?" 

"  For  the  latter  question,  how  can  you  ask  it?  " 
he  answered,  with  a  hint  of  reproach  in  his  voice. 
"  I  fear  I  should  stand  by  you  in  the  wrong,  Paul, 
let  alone  when,  as  now,  I  count  you  much  in  the 
right.  I  have  but  to  think  of  Prudence  in  like 
case,  you  see.  For  the  former  question  —  why, 
see,  you  have  time  and  her  own  heart  on  your 
side.  She  may  be  obstinate  in  that  blindness  of 
hers;  and  you  may  make  blunders  with  your 
ancient  facility,  cousin  mine.  But  I  call  to  mind 
that  trick  you  ever  had  of  holding  on  —  the  trick 
of  the  English  bulldog  which  you  used  so  to  ad- 
mire. It  is  a  strange  streak,  that,  in  a  star-wor- 
shipping, sonnet-writing,  wonder-wise  freak  like 
you,  and  makes  me  often  doubt  whether  your 
verses,  much  as  I  like  them,  can  be  poetry,  after 
all.  But  it  is  a  useful  characteristic  to  have 
about  you,  and,  to  my  mind,  it  means  you'll  win." 

"  If  the  English  don't  hang  me  for  a  spy," 
said  I. 


190  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Stuff!  "  grunted  my  cousin.  "  The  maid  will 
look  to  that." 

Such  was  my  confidence  in  my  cousin  Marc's 
discernment  that  I  went  to  sleep  somewhat  com- 
forted. 


Chapter   XXVII 
Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams 

BUT  to  me  awaking  in  the  raw  of  the  morning, 
a  prisoner,  the  comfort  seemed  less  sure. 
All  through  the  weary,  soul-sapping  weeks  that 
followed,  it  paled  and  shrank,  till  nothing  was  left 
of  it  but  a  hopeless  sort  of  obstinacy,  so  rooted  in 
the  central  fibre-knots  of  my  being  that  to  the 
very  teeth  of  fate  my  pulses  still  kept  beating  out 
the  vow,  "  I  will  win  !  I  will  win  !  " 

For  cheer,  all  my  cousin's  sober  and  well-con- 
sidered confidence  could  not  keep  that  in  my 
heart.  Of  Yvonne,  I  could  get  not  one  word  di- 
rectly. I  saw  her  hand  in  the  fact  that  nothing 
more  was  heard  of  the  charge  of  "  spy  "  against 
me.  Yet  this  benefit  had  a  bitterness  in  it,  for  I 
knew  she  must  have  done  it  through  Anderson. 
Intolerably  did  that  knowledge  grate. 

Mother  P£che  came  daily  to  the  wicket,  but 
could  never  boast  a  message  for  my  ear  —  and  in 
this  reticence  of  Yvonne's  I  saw  a  hardness  of  re- 
solve which  made  my  heart  sink.  Father  Fafard, 

191 


192  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

too,  came  daily  with  food  for  me,  and  with  many  a 
little  loving  kindness ;  but  of  Yvonne  he  would  not 
speak.  Marc,  one  day,  encountered  him  on  the 
subject,  but  prevailed  not  at  all,  in  so  much  that 
they  two  parted  in  some  heat. 

At  last  from  Mother  Pe~che  came  word  that  my 
dear  maid  was  ill,  obscurely  ailing,  pale-lipped, 
and  with  no  more  of  the  fathomless  light  in  her 
great  eyes.  The  reassurance  that  this  gave  me  on 
the  score  of  her  love  was  beyond  measure  over- 
balanced by  the  new  fear  that  it  bred  and  nour- 
ished. Would  not  the  strain  become  too  great  for 
her  —  so  great  that  either  her  promise  to  wait 
would  break  down,  or  else  her  health?  Here  was 
a  dilemma,  and  upon  one  or  the  other  of  the  horns 
of  it  I  writhed  hourly.  It  cost  little  to  feed  me, 
those  weeks  in  the  Grand  Pre  chapel  prison. 

Meanwhile,  it  is  but  just  to  our  English  jailers 
—  they  were  men  of  New  England  chiefly,  from 
Boston,  Plymouth,  Salem,  and  that  vicinage  — 
to  record  it  of  them  that  they  were  kind  and  little 
loved  their  employment.  They  held  the  doom 
of  banishment  to  be  just,  but  they  deplored  the 
inescapable  harshness  of  it.  As  I  came  to  learn, 
it  was  for  New  England's  sake  chiefly,  and  at 
her  instance,  that  old  England  had  ordained  the 
great  expulsion.  Boston  would  not  trust  the 
Acadians,  and  vowed  she  could  no  longer  endure 
a  wasp's  nest  at  her  door.  Thus  it  was  that  the 


Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams   193 

decree  had  at  last  gone  forth ;  and  even  I  could 
not  quite  deny  the  justice  of  it.  I  knew  that 
patient  forbearance  had  long  been  tried  in  vain ; 
and  I  bethought  me,  too,  of  the  great  Louis' 
once  plan,  to  banish  and  utterly  purge  away  all 
the  English  of  New  England  and  New  York. 

Of  affairs  and  public  policy  in  the  world  outside 
our  walls  I  learned  from  Lieutenant  Waldron,  who 
came  in  often  among  us  and  made  me  his  debtor 
by  many  kindly  courtesies.  He  had  an  interest 
in  me  from  the  first  —  in  the  beginning,  as  I  felt, 
an  interest  merely  of  curiosity,  for  he  doubtless 
wondered  that  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie  should 
stoop  to  be  entangled  with  two  lovers.  But  soon 
he  conceived  a  friendship  for  me,  which  I  heartily 
reciprocated.  I  have  ever  loved  the  English  as 
a  brave  and  worthy  enemy ;  and  this  young  officer 
from  Plymouth  town  presented  to  my  admiration 
a  fair  epitome  of  the  qualities  I  most  liked  in  his 
race.  In  appearance  he  was  not  unlike  Ander- 
son, but  of  slimmer  build,  with  the  air  of  the 
fighter  added,  and  a  something  besides  which  I 
felt,  but  could  not  name.  This  something  Ander- 
son lacked  —  and  the  lack  was  subtly  conspicu- 
ous in  a  character  which  even  my  jealous  rivalry 
was  forced  to  call  worthy  of  love. 

The  reservation  in  my  own  mind  I  found  to  lie 
in  Waldron's  also,  and  with  even  more  conse- 
quence attached  to  it.  Anderson  having  chanced 


194  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

to  be  one  day  the  subject  of  our  conversation,  I  let 
slip  hint  of  the  way  it  galled  me  to  feel  myself  in 
his  debt  for  exemption  from  the  charge  of  spying. 

"  I  can  easily  understand,"  said  he,  "  that  you 
feel  it  intolerable.  I  am  surprised,  more  and 
more  daily,  at  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie's  accept- 
ance of  his  suit.  Oh,  you  French,  —  may  I  say 
it,  monsieur?  —  what  a  merchandise  you  make  of 
your  young  girls  !  " 

"  You  put  it  unpleasantly,  sir,"  said  I ;  "  but 
too  truly  for  me  to  resent  it.  You  surprise  me, 
however,  in  what  you  imply  of  Anderson.  I  liked 
him  heartily  at  first  sight.  I  know  him  to  be 
brave,  though  he  does  not  carry  arms.  He  is 
capable  and  clear-sighted,  kind  and  frank;  and 
surely  he  has  beauty  to  delight  a  woman's  eyes. 
I  am  in  despair  when  I  think  of  him." 

"  He  is  all  you  say,"  acknowledged  Waldron, 
with  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his  sharp  blue  eyes ; 
"  nevertheless  there  is  something  he  is  not,  which 
damns  him  for  me.  I  don't  quite  like  him,  and 
that's  a  fact.  At  the  same  time  I  know  he's  a 
fine  fellow,  and  I  ought  to  like  him.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you,  for  your  discomfort,  that  he  has  done 
all  that  man  could  do  to  get  you  out  of  this  place. 
He  has  been  to  Halifax  about  it,  and  dared  to 
make  himself  very  disagreeable  to  the  governor 
when  he  was  refused.  It  is  not  his  fault  you  are 
not  out  and  off  by  this  time." 


Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams   195 

"  Thank  God,  he  failed !  "  said  I,  with  fervour. 

"  So  should  I  say  in  your  case,  monsieur,"  he 
replied,  with  a  kind  of  dry  goodwill. 

To  this  obliging  officer — in  more  kindly  after- 
years,  I  am  proud  to  say,  destined  to  become  my 
close  friend  —  I  owed  some  flattering  messages 
from  Madame  de  Lamourie.  I  knew  she  liked  me 

—  had  ever  liked  me,  save  during  those  days  of 
my  ignominious  eclipse  when  I  seemed  to  all  Grand 
Pre  an  accomplice  of  the  Black  Abbe  and  Vaurin. 
I  had  a  suspicion  that  she  would  not  be  deeply 
displeased  should  I,  by  any  hook  or  crook,  accom- 
plish the  discomfiture  of  Anderson.     But  I  well 
knew  her  friendliness  to  me  would  not  go  so  far  as 
open  championship.    She  would  obey  her  husband, 
for  peace'  sake ;  and  take  her  satisfaction  in  a  little 
more  delicate  malice.     I  pictured  her  as  making 
the  handsome   English   Quaker  subtly   miserable 
by  times. 

From  Giles  de  Lamourie,  however,  I  received 
no  greeting.  I  took  it  that  he  regarded  me  as  a 
menace  not  only  to  his  own  authority,  but  to  his 
daughter's  peace.  A  prudent  marriage,  —  a  reg- 
ular, well-ordered,  decently  arranged  for  marriage, 

—  in  such  he  fancied  happiness  for  Yvonne.     But 
I  concerned  me  not  at  all  for  opposition  of  his.     I 
thought  that  Yvonne,  if  ever  she  should  choose, 
could  bring  him  to  her  feet. 

At  last  there  came  a  break  in  the  monotony  of 


196  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  days  —  a  break  which,  for  all  its  bitterness, 
was  welcomed.  Word  came  that  another  ship  was 
tardily  ready  for  its  freight  of  exiles.  The  weary 
faces  of  the  guard  brightened,  for  here  was  evi- 
dence that  something  was  being  done.  Within  the 
chapel  rose  a  hum  of  expectation,  and  all  spec- 
ulated on  their  chances.  For  if  exile  was  to  be, 
"  Let  it  come  quickly  "  was  the  cry  of  all. 

But  no  —  not  of  all.  I  feared  it,  with  a  phys- 
ical fear  till  then  unknown  to  me.  To  me  it 
meant  a  new  and  appalling  barrier.  Here  but  two 
wooden  walls  and  a  stone's  throw  of  wintry  space 
fenced  me  from  her  bodily  presence.  But  after 
exile,  how  many  seas,  and  vicissitudes,  and  uncom- 
prehending alien  faces ! 

But  I  was  not  to  go  this  time ;  nor  yet  my  cousin 
Marc,  who,  having  at  last  received  from  Quebec 
authentic  word  of  the  health  and  safety  of  his 
Puritan,  was  looking  out  upon  events  with  his  old 
enviable  calm. 

On  the  day  when  a  stir  in  the  cottages  betokened 
that  embarkation  was  to  begin,  the  south  windows 
of  the  chapel  were  in  demand.  They  afforded  a 
clear  view  of  the  village  and  a  partial  view  of  the 
landing-place.  Benches  were  piled  before  them, 
and  we  took  turns  by  the  half  hour  in  looking  out, 
those  at  the  post  of  observation  passing  messages 
back  to  the  eager  rows  behind.  It  was  plain  at 
once  that  the  cottages  at  the  west  end  of  the 


Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams   197 

village  were  to  be  cleared  in  a  block.  On  a  sudden 
there  was  a  sharp  outcry  from  the  three  Le  Boutil- 
liers,  as  they  saw  their  homely  house-gear  being 
carried  from  their  doorways  and  heaped  upon  a 
lumbering  hay-wagon.  They  were  of  a  nervous 
stock,  and  forthwith  began  a  great  lamentation, 
thinking  that  their  wives  and  families  were  to  be 
sent  away  without  them.  When  the  little  proces- 
sion started  down  the  street  toward  the  landing  — 
the  old  grandmother  and  the  two  littlest  children 
perched  on  the  wagon-load,  the  wives  and  other 
children  walking  beside  in  attitudes  that  proclaimed 
their  tears  —  the  good  fellows  became  so  excited  as 
to  trouble  our  company. 

"  Chut,  men !  "  cried  Marc,  in  a  tone  of  sharp 
command.  "  Are  you  become  women  all  at  once? 
There  will  be  no  separation  of  families  this  time, 
when  there  is  but  one  ship  and  no  room  for  mis- 
takes. The  guards  yonder  will  be  calling  for  you 
presently,  never  fear." 

This  quieted  them ;  for  my  cousin  had  a  con- 
vincing way  with  him,  and  they  accounted  his 
wisdom  something  beyond  natural. 

Then  there  came  by  two  more  wagons,  and 
another  sorrowful  procession,  appearing  from  the 
direction  of  the  Habitants ;  and  the  word  "  Le 
Marchands"  went  muttering  through  the  prison. 
Le  Marchand  settlement  was  moving  to  the  ship 
—  and  even  now  a  cloud  of  black  smoke,  with  red 


198  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

tongues  visible  on  the  morning  air,  showed  us 
what  would  befall  the  houses  of  Grand  Pre  when 
the  folk  of  Grand  Pre  should  be  gone. 

The  Le  Marchand  men  made  no  sign,  save  to 
glower  under  their  brows  and  grip  the  window 
sashes  with  tense  fingers.  They  were  of  different 
stuff  from  the  Le  Boutilliers,  these  black  Le 
Marchands.  They  set  their  teeth  hard,  and 
waited. 

So  it  went  on  through  the  morning,  one  man 
after  another  seeing  his  family  led  away  to  the 
ship  —  his  family  and  some  scant  portion  of  his 
goods ;  and  thus  we  came  to  know  what  men 
among  us  were  like  to  be  called  forth  on  this 
voyage. 

Presently  the  big  door  was  thrown  open,  and  all 
faces  flashed  about  to  the  new  interest.  Outside 
stood  a  double  red  line  of  English  soldiers.  An 
officer  —  the  round-faced  Colonel  Winslow  him- 
self—  stepped  in,  a  scroll  of  paper  curling  in  his 
hand.  In  a  precise  and  something  pompous  voice 
he  read  aloud  the  names  of  those  to  go.  The  Le 
Marchands  were  first  on  the  roll ;  then  the  Le 
Boutilliers,  Ba'tiste  Chouan,  Jean  and  Tamin 
Masson,  and  a  long  list  that  promised  to  thin 
our  crowded  benches  by  one-third.  But  I  was 
left  among  the  unsummoned;  and  my  cousin 
Marc,  and  long  Philibert  Trou,  and  the  wily  fox 
La  Mouche ;  and  I  saw  Marc's  lips  compress  with 


Dead  Days  and  Withered  Dreams    199 

a  significant  satisfaction  when  he  saw  these  two 
remaining.  Vaguely  I  thought  —  "  He  has  a 
plan !  "  But  thereafter,  in  my  gloom,  I  thought 
no  more  of  it. 

So  these  chosen  ones  marched  off  between  their 
guards ;  and  that  afternoon  the  ship  went  out  on 
the  ebb  tide  with  a  wind  that  carried  her,  white- 
sailed,  around  the  dark  point  of  Blomidon.  Grand 
Pre  chapel  prison  settled  apathetically  back  to  a 
deeper  calm. 


Chapter   XXVIII 
The  Ships  of  her  Exile 

THE  days  dragged  till  December  was  setting 
his  hoar  face  toward  death,  and  still  delayed 
the  last  ships.  The  jailers  grew  sour-visaged. 
From  Yvonne  came  no  more  word,  only  the 
tidings  that  she  was  not  well,  and  that  her  people 
were  troubled  for  her.  Father  Fafard's  cheery 
wrinkles  at  mouth  and  eyes  deepened  from  cheer 
to  care ;  but  still  his  lips  locked  over  the  name  of 
Yvonne. 

My  hope  sank  ever  lower  and  lower.  That  old 
wound  in  my  head,  cured  by  Grul's  searching 
simples,  began  to  harass  me  afresh  —  whether 
from  cold,  the  chapel  being  but  barn-like,  or  from 
the  circumstance  that  my  heart,  ceaselessly  gnaw- 
ing upon  itself,  gnawed  also  upon  every  tissue  and 
nerve.  I  came  strangely  close  to  the  ranger  La 
Mouche  in  those  bad  days;  for  though  I  knew 
not,  nor  cared  nor  dared  to  ask,  his  story,  I  saw 
in  his  eyes  a  something  which  he,  too,  doubtless 
saw  in  mine.  So  it  came  that  we  sat  much 

200 


The  Ships  of  her  Exile  201 

together,  in  a  black  silence.  It  was  not  that  I 
loved  less  than  of  old  my  true  comrade  Marc,  but 
the  fact  that  he  possessed  where  he  loved,  and 
could  with  blissful  confidence  look  forward,  set 
him  some  way  apart  from  me.  Upon  La  Mouche, 
with  the  deep  hurt  sullen  in  his  eyes,  I  could  look 
and  mutter  to  myself: 

"  Old,  wily  fox,  is  your  foot,  once  so  free, 
caught  in  the  snare  of  a  woman?" 

So  tortuous  a  thing  in  its  workings  is  this  red 
clot  of  a  human  heart  that  I  got  a  kind  of  per- 
verted solace  out  of  such  thoughts  as  these. 

At  last  the  tired  watchers  at  our  south  windows 
announced  two  ship  in  the  basin.  They  came  up 
on  the  flood,  and  dropped  anchor  off  the  Gaspe- 
reau  mouth. 

"  This  ends  it,"  I  heard  Marc  say  coolly.  "All 
that's  left  of  Grand  Pre  can  go  in  those  two  ships." 

To  me  the  words  came  as  a  knell  for  the  burial 
of  my  last  hope. 

The  embarkation  had  now  to  be  pushed  with  a 
speed  which  wrought  infinite  confusion,  for  the 
weather  had  turned  bitter,  and  it  was  not  possible 
for  women  and  children  to  long  endure  the  cold  of 
their  dismantled  homes.  The  big  wagons,  watched 
by  us  from  our  windows,  went  creaking  and  rat- 
tling down  the  frozen  roads.  Wailing  women, 
frightened  and  wondering  children,  beds,  chests, 
many-colored  quilts,  bright  red  and  green  chairs, 


2O2  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

-  to  us  it  looked  as  if  all  these  were  tumbled  into 
a  narrowing  vortex  and  swept  with  a  piteous  indis- 
criminacy  into  one  ship  or  the  other.  The  orderly 
method  with  which  the  previous  embarkings  had 
been  managed  was  now  all  thrown  to  the  winds  by 
the  fierce  necessity  for  haste.  We  in  the  chapel  were 
not  left  long  to  watch  the  scene  from  the  windows. 
While  yet  the  main  street  of  Grand  Pre  was  dolor- 
ous with  the  tears  of  the  women  and  children,  the 
doors  of  our  prison  opened  and  names  were  called. 
I  heeded  them  not;  but  the  sound  of  my  own  name 
pierced  my  gloom ;  and  I  went  out.  In  the  tingling 
air  I  awoke  a  little,  to  gaze  up  the  hill  at  the  large 
house  where  Yvonne  had  lodged  since  the  parson- 
age had  been  taken  for  a  guard-house.  No  message 
came  to  me  from  those  north  windows.  Then  I 
turned,  to  find  Marc  at  my  side. 

"  Courage,  cousin  mine,"  he  whispered.  "  We 
are  not  beaten  yet.  Better  outside  than  in  there. 
This  much  means  freedom  —  and,  once  free,  we'll 
act." 

"  No,  Marc,  I'm  not  beaten,"  I  muttered.  "  But 
—  it  looks  as  if  I  were." 

"  Chut,  man  !  "  said  he  crisply.  "You  couldn't 
do  a  better  thing  to  bring  her  to  her  senses  than 
you  are  doing  now." 

It  was  but  a  few  steps  down  to  the  lane,  and  there 
we  found  ourselves  in  a  jumble  of  heaped  carts 
and  blue-skirted,  weeping  women.  My  head  was 


The  Ships  of  her  Exile  203 

paining  me  sorely  —  a  numb  ache  that  seemed  to 
rise  in  the  core  of  my  brain.  But  I  remember 
noting  with  a  far-off  commiseration  the  blubbered 
faces  of  the  women,  and  their  poor  little  solicitudes 
for  this  or  that  bit  of  household  gear  which,  from 
time  to  time,  would  fall  crashing  to  the  ground 
from  the  hastily  laden  carts.  I  found  spirit  to 
wonder  that  the  tears  which  had  exhausted  them- 
selves over  the  farewell  to  fatherland  and  hearth- 
side  should  break  out  afresh  over  the  cracking  of 
a  gilded  glass  or  the  shattering  of  a  blue  and  silver 
jug.  The  women's  lamentations  in  a  little  hardened 
me,  so  that  my  ears  ignored  them ;  but  the  wide- 
eyed  terrors  of  the  children,  their  questions  unan- 
swered, their  whimpering  at  the  cold  that  blued  their 
hands,  all  this  pierced  me.  Tears  for  the  children's 
sorrow  gathered  in  my  heart,  till  it  was  nigh  to 
bursting;  and  this  curbed  passion  of  pity,  I  think, 
kept  my  sick  body  from  collapse.  It  in  some 
way  threw  me  back  from  my  own  misery  on  to  my 
old  unroutable  resolution. 

"  I  will  win  !  "  I  said  in  my  heart,  as  we  came 
down  upon  the  wharf  at  the  Gaspereau  mouth. 
"  Though  there  seems  to  be  no  more  hope,  there 
is  life;  and  while  there  is  life,  I  hold  on." 

When  we  reached  the  wharf  the  ebb  was  well 
advanced.  The  boats  could  not  get  near  the 
wharf.  Women  had  to  wade  ankle-deep  in  freezing 
slime  to  reach  them.  The  slime  was  churned  with 


204  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  struggle  of  many  feet.  The  stuff  from  the 
carts  was  at  times  dropped  in  the  ooze,  to  be  re- 
covered or  not  as  might  chance.  The  soldiers 
toiled  faithfully,  and  their  leggings  to  the  knee 
were  a  sorry  sight.  They  were  patient,  these  red- 
coats, with  the  women,  who  often  seemed  to  lose 
their  heads  so  that  they  knew  not  which  boat  they 
wanted  to  go  in.  To  the  children  every  red-coat 
seemed  tender  as  a  mother.  For  any  one,  indeed, 
they  would  do  anything,  except  endure  delay. 
Haste,  haste,  haste  was  all  —  and  therefore  there 
was  calamitous  confusion.  While  I  stood  on  the 
wharf  awaiting  the  order  to  embark,  I  saw  a  stout 
girl  in  a  dark-red  stomacher  and  grey  petticoat 
throw  herself  screaming  into  the  water  where  it 
was  about  waist  deep,  and  scramble  desperately  to 
another  boat  near  by.  No  effort  was  made  to 
restrain  her.  Dripping  with  tide  and  slime  she 
climbed  over  the  gunwale;  and  belike  found  what 
she  sought,  for  her  cries  ceased.  Again  I  noted 
—  Marc  called  my  attention  to  it —  a  small  child 
being  passed  from  one  boat  to  the  other,  as  the 
two,  bound  for  different  ships,  were  about  diverg- 
ing. The  mother  had  stumbled  blindly  into  one 
boat  while  the  child  had  been  tossed  into  the 
other.  In  the  effort  to  remedy  this  oversight 
the  child  was  dropped  into  the  water  between  the 
boats.  The  screams  of  the  mother  were  like  a 
knife  in  our  ears.  Two  sailors  went  overboard  at 


The  Ships  of  her  Exile  205 

once,  but  there  was  some  delay  ere  the  little  one 
was  recovered.  Then  we  saw  its  limp  body  passed 
in  over  the  boatside ;  whether  alive  or  dead  we 
could  not  judge ;  but  the  screams  ceased  and  our 
ear-drums  blessed  the  respite. 

With  the  next  boat  came  our  turn ;  and  I  found 
myself  wading  down  the  slope  of  icy  ooze.  I 
heard  Marc,  just  behind  me,  mutter  a  careless 
imprecation  upon  the  needless  defiling  of  his 
boots.  He  was  ever  imperturbable,  my  cousin,  — 
a  hot  heart,  but  in  steel  harness. 

We  loaded  the  roomy  long-boat  till  the  gunwale 
was  almost  awash.  The  big  oars  creaked  and 
thumped  in  the  rowlocks.  We  moved  laboriously 
out  to  the  ships,  which  swung  on  straining  cable 
in  the  tide.  As  we  came  under  her  black-wall 
side,  with  the  turbid  red-grey  current  hissing  past  it, 
men  on  deck  caught  us  with  grapnels,  and  we  swung, 
splashing,  under  the  stern.  Then,  the  tide  being 
very  troublesome,  we  were  drawn  again  alongside. 

Marc  was  at  my  elbow.  "  Look  !  "  he  cried,  point- 
ing to  the  ridge  behind  the  village.  I  saw  a  wide- 
roofed  cottage  on  the  crest  break  into  flame. 
There  was  a  wind  up  there,  though  little  as  yet 
down  here  in  the  valley;  and  the  flames  streamed 
out  to  westward,  the  black  smoke  rolling  low  and 
ragged  above  them. 

"  So  goes  all  Grand  Pre  in  a  little !  "  muttered 
Marc. 


206  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  It  is  P'tit  Joliet's  house  !  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  a  steady  young  voice  behind  me ; 
and  I  turned  to  see  Petit  Joliet  himself,  watching 
with  undaunted  eyes  the  burning  of  his  home. 
"  Yes,  and  it  was  a  fine  house.  It  would  have 
hurt  my  father  sorely,  were  he  alive  now,  to  see  it 
go  up  in  smoke  like  that." 

"  Well,  you  have  a  brave  heart,"  said  I,  liking 
him  well  as  I  saw  his  firmness. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "the  only  thing  that  is  troubling 
me  is  this —  shall  I  find  my  mother  on  this  ship? 
They  are  making  mistakes  now,  these  English,  in 
their  haste  to  be  done  with  us.  I'm  worried." 

"  If  she  is  not  on  board,"  said  my  kind  Marc, 
"  we'll  try  and  keep  a  watch  on  the  boats ;  and  if 
we  see  her  bound  for  the  wrong  ship  we'll  let  the 
guard  know.  They  want  to  keep  families  to- 
gether, if  they  can." 

This  was  Marc,  ever  careful  of  others.  But  his 
good  purpose  was  like  to  have  been  frustrated  soon 
as  formed  ;  for  scarce  were  our  feet  well  on  deck 
when  our  hands  were  clapped  in  irons,  and  we 
were  marched  off  straight  to  the  hold. 

"  Sorry,  sir.  Can't  help  it.  So  many  of  you, 
you  know,"  said  the  red-coat  apologetically,  as  I 
stretched  out  my  wrists  to  him. 

But  glancing  about  the  crowded  deck  I  de- 
scried my  good  friend,  Lieutenant  Waldron,  busily 
unravelling  the  snarl  of  things.  In  answer  to  my 


The  Ships  of  her  Exile  207 

hail  he  came  at  once,  warm,  friendly,  and  trying 
not  to  see  my  irons. 

"  One  last  little  service,  sir  !  "  I  cried.  "  Little 
to  us,  it  may  be  great  to  others.  You  see  we  are 
ironed,  Captain  de  Mer  and  I.  We  will  give  our 
word  to  neither  attempt  escape  nor  in  any  way 
interfere  with  this  sorry  work.  Let  us  two  wait 
here  on  deck  till  the  ship  sails.  We  know  all  these 
villagers ;  and  we  want  to  help  you  avoid  the 
severance  of  families." 

"  It  is  little  to  grant  for  you,  my  friend,"  said 
he,  in  a  feeling  voice.  "  You  cannot  know  how 
my  heart  is  aching.  I  will  speak  to  the  captain 
of  the  ship,  and  you  shall  stay  on  deck  till  the 
ship  sails." 

Marc  thanked  him  courteously,  but  I  with  no 
more  than  a  look,  for  words  did  not  at  that  time 
seem  compliant  to  say  what  I  desired  them  to  say. 
They  are  false  and  treacherous  spirits,  these  words 
we  make  so  free  with  and  trust  so  rashly  with 
affairs  of  life  and  death.  How  often  do  they  take  an 
honest  meaning  from  the  heart  and  twist  it  to  the 
semblance  of  a  lie  as  it  leaves  the  lips !  How 
often  do  they  take  a  flame  from  the  inmost  soul,  and 
make  it  ice  before  it  reaches  the  soul  toward  which 
it  thrilled  forth  !  It  has  been  my  calling  to  work 
with  words  in  peace,  as  with  swords  in  time  of 
war;  and  I  know  them.  I  do  not  trust  them. 
The  swords  are  the  safer. 


Chapter  XXIX 
The  Hour  of  her  Desolation 

RETURNING  from  a  brief  word  with  the  ship- 
captain,  —  a  very-  broad-bearded,  broad- 
chested  man,  in  a  very  rough  blue  coat,  — 
Lieutenant  Waldron  passed  us  hastily,  and  signi- 
fied that  it  was  all  right.  With  this  sanction  we 
pushed  along  the  crowded  deck  in  order  to  gain  a 
post  of  vantage  at  the  bow.  The  vessel,  whose 
hold  was  now  to  be  our  new  and  narrow  cage,  was 
one  of  those  ordinarily  engaged  in  the  West  Indian 
trade.  Our  noses  told  us  this.  To  the  savours  of 
fish  and  tar  which  clung  in  her  timbers  she  added 
a  foreign  tang  of  molasses,  rum,  and  coffee.  As 
we  stumbled  up  the  cluttered  deck,  lacking  the 
balance  of  free  hands,  these  shippy  smells  were 
crossed  in  curious,  pathetic  fashion  by  the  homely 
odours  of  the  blankets,  clothes,  pillows,  and  other 
household  stuff  that  lay  about  waiting  for  storage. 
Here  a  woman  sat  stolidly  upon  her  own  pile,  with 
a  mortgage  on  the  future  so  long  as  she  kept  her 
bedding  in  possession;  and  there  a  youngster, 

208 


The  Hour  of  her  Desolation       209 

already  homesick,  for  his  wide-hearthed  cabin, 
sobbed  heavily,  with  his  face  buried  in  an  old  coat 
of  his  father's. 

For  hours,  in  the  bitter  cold,  we  held  our  post 
in  the  bow  of  the  ship  and  watched  the  boats  go 
back  and  forth.  Of  the  old  mother  of  Petit  Joliet 
we  saw  nothing.  We  judged  perforce  that  she 
had  been  moved  early  and  carried  to  the  other 
ship,  which  swung  at  anchor  a  little  up  the  channel. 
We  were  able  —  I  say  we,  though  Marc  did  all,  I 
being,  as  it  were,  drowned  in  my  own  dejection  — 
we  were  able  to  be  of  service  in  divers  instances. 
When,  for  example,  young  Violet  was  brought 
aboard  with  another  boat-load  from  the  chapel 
prison,  we  made  haste  to  tell  the  guards  that  we 
had  seen  his  mother  and  sisters  taken  to  the  other 
ship.  As  a  consequence,  when  the  boat  went  back 
to  the  wharf  it  carried  young  Violet ;  so  he  and 
his  were  not  divided  in  their  exile. 

By  the  very  next  boat  there  came  to  us  a  black- 
browed,  white-lipped  woman,  from  whose  dry  eyes 
the  tears  seemed  all  drained  out.  She  carried  a 
babe-at-breast,  while  two  thin  little  ones  clung  to 
her  homespun  skirt.  As  soon  as  she  reached  the 
deck  she  stared  around  in  wild  expectation,  as  if 
she  thought  to  find  her  husband  waiting  to  receive 
her.  Not  seeing  him,  she  straightway  fainted  in  a 
heap.  It  chanced  I  knew  the  woman's  face.  She 
was  the  wife  of  one  Caspar  Besnard,  of  Pereau, 


2io  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

whom  I  had  seen  taken,  early  in  the  day,  to  the 
other  ship.  He  was  conspicuous  by  reason  of 
having  red  hair,  a  marvel  in  Acadie ;  and  there- 
fore my  memory  had  retained  him,  though  he  con- 
cerned me  not.  Now,  however,  he  did  concern 
me  much.  A  few  words  to  the  officer  of  the  guard, 
and  the  poor  woman,  with  her  children,  was  trans- 
ferred to  where  she  doubtless  found  her  husband. 

Such  cases  justified,  in  our  jailers'  eyes,  the 
favour  that  had  been  shown  us.  Meanwhile  our 
ship  had  filled  up.  We  had  seen  Long  Philibert 
and  La  Mouche  brought  aboard,  but  had  not 
spoken  with  them.  "  Time  for  that  later,"  Marc 
had  said.  I  had  watched  for  Petit  Joliet's  mother ; 
and  I  had  watched  eagerly  for  old  Mother  P£che ; 
but  in  vain.  While  yet  the  boats  were  plying, 
heavy  laden,  between  the  shore  and  the  other 
ship,  we  found  ourselves  ready  for  departure. 
Our  boats  were  swung  aboard ;  and  the  English 
Yeo,  heave  ho!  arose  as  the  sailors  shoved  on  the 
capstan.  Lieutenant  Waldron,  after  an  all  but 
wordless  farewell,  went  ashore  in  the  gig  with 
two  soldiers.  The  rest  of  the  red-coats  stayed 
aboard.  They  had  been  reenforced  by  a  fresh 
squad  who  were  marched  down  late  to  the  land- 
ing. These,  plainly,  were  to  be  our  guard  during 
the  voyage  ;  and  I  saw  with  a  sort  of  vague  resent- 
ment that  a  tall,  foppish  exquisite  of  an  officer, 
known  to  me  by  sight,  was  to  command  this  guard. 


The  Hour  of  her  Desolation       211 

He  was  one  Lieutenant  Shafto,  whom  we  had  seen 
two  or  three  times  at  the  chapel  prison  ;  and  I  think 
all  disliked  him  for  a  certain  elaborate  loftiness 
in  his  air.  It  came  to  my  mind  dimly  that  I  should 
well  rejoice  to  cross  swords  with  him,  and  I  hinted 
as  much  to  Marc. 

"Who  knows?"  said  my  unruffled  cousin;  "we 
may  live  to  see  him  look  less  complacent."  His 
smile  had  a  meaning  which  I  could  not  fathom. 
I  could  see  no  ground  for  his  sanguine  satisfaction  ; 
and  I  dared  not  question  where  some  enemy 
might  overhear.  I  thought  no  more  of  it,  there- 
fore, but  relapsed  into  my  apathy.  As  we  slipped 
down  the  tide  I  saw,  in  a  boat-load  just  approach- 
ing the  other  ship,  a  figure  with  a  red  shawl 
wrapped  round  head  and  shoulders.  This  gave 
me  a  pang,  as  I  had  hoped  to  have  Mother  P6che 
with  me,  to  talk  to  me  of  Yvonne  and  help  me  to 
build  up  the  refuge  of  a  credulous  hope.  But 
since  even  that  was  denied  me  —  well,  it  was 
nothing,  after  all,  and  I  was  a  child  !  I  turned  my 
eyes  upon  the  house,  far  up  the  ridge,  where  the 
Lamouries  had  lodging.  It  was  one  of  four,  stand- 
ing well  aloof  from  the  rest  of  the  village ;  and  I 
knew  they  all  were  occupied  by  those  prudent 
ones  of  the  neighbourhood  who  had  been  wise  in 
time  and  now  stood  safe  in  English  favour.  The 
doom  of  Grand  Pre,  I  knew,  would  turn  aside  from 
them. 


212  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

But  on  the  emptied  and  desolated  village  it  was 
even  now  descending.  Marc  and  I,  unnoticed  in 
our  place,  were  free  to  watch.  So  dire  was  even 
yet  the  confusion  on  our  deck,  so  busy  seamen 
and  soldiers  alike,  that  we  were  quite  forgotten  for 
a  time.  The  early  winter  dark  was  gathering  upon 
Blomidon  and  the  farther  hills ;  but  there  was  to 
be  no  dark  that  night  by  the  mouth  of  Gaspereau. 

The  house  of  Petit  Joliet,  upon  the  hill,  burned 
long  alone.  It  was  perhaps  a  signal  to  the  troops 
at  Piziquid,  twenty  miles  away,  telling  them  that 
the  work  at  Grand  Pre  was  done.  Not  till  late  in 
the  afternoon  was  the  torch  set  to  the  village  itself. 
Then  smoke  arose  suddenly  on  the  westernmost 
outskirts,  toward  the  Habitants  dyke.  The  wind 
being  from  the  southeast,  the  fire  spread  but 
slowly  against  it.  As  the  smoke  drove  low  the 
flames  started  into  more  conspicuous  brilliance, 
licking  lithely  over  and  under  the  rolling  cloud  that 
strove  to  smother  them.  These  empty  houses 
burned  for  the  most  part  with  a  clear,  light  flame ; 
but  the  barns,  stored  with  hay  and  straw,  vomited 
angry  red,  streaked  with  black.  Up  the  bleak 
hillside  ran  the  terrified  cattle,  with  wildly  tossing 
horns.  At  times,  even  on  shipboard,  we  caught 
their  bellowings.  They  had  been  turned  loose,  of 
course,  before  the  fires  were  started,  but  had 
remained  huddled  in  the  familiar  barnyards  until 
this  horrible  and  inexplicable  cataclysm  drove 


The  Hour  of  her  Desolation        213 

them  forth.  Far  up  the  slope  we  saw  them  turn 
and  stand  at  gaze. 

In  an  hour  we  observed  that  the  wharf  was 
empty,  and  the  other  ship  hoisting  sail.  Then 
the  fires  sprang  up  in  every  part  of  the  village  at 
once.  They  ran  along  the  main  street  below  the 
chapel ;  but  they  came  not  very  near  the  chapel 
itself,  for  all  the  buildings  in  its  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood had  been  long  ago  removed,  and  it  stood 
in  a  safe  isolation,  towering  in  white  solemnity  over 
the  red  tumult  of  ruin. 

"  The  chapel  will  be  a  camp  to-night,  instead  of  a 
prison,"  said  Marc  at  my  ear,  his  grave  eyes  fixed 
and  wide.  "  It  will  be  the  last  thing  to  go  —  it 
and  the  Colony  of  Compromise  yonder  up  the 
hill." 

"  But  who  shall  blame  them  for  the  com- 
promise?" I  protested,  unwilling  to  hear  censure 
that  touched  the  father  of  Yvonne. 

Marc  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  this.  He  never 
was  a  lover  of  vain  argument. 

"  I  wonder  where  the  Black  Abbe  is  at  this 
moment !  "  was  what  he  said,  with  no  apparent 
relevancy. 

"  Not  yet  in  his  own  place,  I  fear !  "  said  I. 

"  The  implication  is  a  pious  one,"  said  Marc. 
"  Yonder  is  the  work  of  him,  and  of  no  other. 
He  should  be  roasting  now  in  the  hottest  of  it." 

I  really,  at  this  moment,  cared  little,  and  was  at 


214  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

loss  for  reply.  But  a  bullying  roar  of  a  voice  just 
behind  us  saved  me  the  necessity  of  answering. 

"  Here,  you  two  !  What  are  ye  doin'  here  on 
deck?  Git,  now  !  Git,  quick!  " 

The  speaker  was  a  big,  loose-jointed  man,  ill- 
favoured  and  palpably  ill-humoured.  I  was  pleased 
to  note  that  the  middle  two  of  his  obtrusive  front 
teeth  were  wanting,  and  that  his  nose  was  so  mis- 
shapen as  to  suggest  some  past  calamitous  experi- 
ence. As  I  learned  afterwards,  this  was  our  ship's 
first  mate.  I  was  too  dull  of  mood — too  sick, 
in  fact  —  to  be  instantly  wroth  at  his  insolence. 
I  looked  curiously  at  him ;  but  Marc  answered  in 
a  quiet  voice : 

"  Merely  waiting  here,  sir,  on  parole  and  by 
direction,  till  the  proper  authorities  are  ready  to 
take  us  below  !  "  And  he  thrust  out  his  manacled 
hands  to  show  how  we  were  conditioned. 

"  Well,  here's  proper  authority,  ye'll  find  out. 
Git,  er  I'll  jog  ye ! "  And  he  made  a  motion  to 
take  me  by  the  collar. 

I  stepped  aside  and  faced  him.  I  looked  him 
in  the  eyes  with  a  sudden  rage  so  deadly  that  he 
must  have  felt  it,  for  he  hesitated.  I  cared  noth- 
ing then  what  befell  me,  and  would  have  smashed 
him  with  my  iron-locked  wrist  had  he  touched  me, 
or  else  so  tripped  him  and  fallen  with  him  that  we 
should  have  gone  overboard  together.  But  he 
was  a  brute  of  some  perception,  and  his  hesitancy 


The  Hour  of  her  Desolation        215 

most  likely  saved  us  both.  It  gave  Marc  time  to 
shout  —  "  Guards  !  Guards  !  Here  !  Prisoner 
escaping !  " 

Instantly  along  the  red-lit  deck  came  soldiers 
running  —  three  of  them.  The  mate  had  grabbed 
a  belaying-pin,  but  stood  fingering  it,  uncertain  of 
his  status  in  relation  to  the  soldiers. 

"  Corporal,"  said  Marc  ceremoniously  to  one 
of  them,  discerning  his  rank  by  the  stripes  on  his 
sleeve,  "  pardon  the  false  alarm.  There  was  no 
prisoner  escaping.  We  were  here  on  parole,  by 
the  favour  of  Lieutenant  Waldron  —  as  you  your- 
self know,  indeed,  for  we  helped  you  this  afternoon 
in  getting  scattered  families  together.  But  this 
man  —  we  don't  know  who  he  is — was  brutal,  and 
threatening  violence  in  spite  of  our  defenceless 
state.  Please  take  us  in  charge  !  " 

"  Certainly,  Captain  de  Mer,"  said  the  man 
promptly.  "  I  was  just  about  coming  for  you  !  " 

Then  he  turned  to  the  mate  with  an  air  of 
triumphant  aversion,  in  which  lurked,  perhaps,  a 
consciousness  of  conflicting  and  ill-defined  author- 
ities. 

"  No  belaying-pins  for  the  prisoners !  "  he 
growled.  "  Keep  them  for  yer  poor  swabs  o' 
sailor  lads.  " 

As  we  marched  down  the  deck  under  guard 
the  sails  overhead  were  all  aglow,  the  masts  and 
spars  gleamed  ruddily.  The  menacing  radiance 


2i6  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

was  by  this  time  filling  the  whole  heaven,  and  the 
small,  quick-running  surges  flashed  under  it  with  a 
sinister  sheen.  As  we  reached  the  open  hatch  I 
turned  for  a  last  look  at  Grand  Pre. 

The  whole  valley  was  now  as  it  were  one  seething 
lake  of  smoke  and  flame,  the  high,  half-shrouded 
spire  of  the  chapel  rising  impregnable  on  the 
further  brink.  The  conflagration  was  fiercest  now 
along  the  eastern  half  of  the  main  street,  toward 
the  water  side.  Even  at  this  distance  we  heard 
the  great-lunged  roar  of  it.  High  over  the  chaos, 
like  a  vaulted  roof  upheld  by  the  Gaspereau  Ridge, 
arched  an  almost  stationary  covering  of  smoke- 
cloud,  impenetrable,  and  red  as  blood  along  its 
under  side.  The  smoke  of  the  burning  was  carried 
off  toward  the  Habitants  and  Canard  —  where 
there  was  nothing  left  to  burn.  Between  the  red 
stillness  above  and  the  red  turbulence  below,  apart 
and  safe  on  their  high  slope,  gleamed  the  cottages  of 
the  Colony  of  Compromise.  With  what  eyes,  I  won- 
dered, does  my  beloved  look  out  upon  this  horror? 
Do  they  strain  sadly  after  the  departing  ships  —  or 
does  the  Englishman  stand  by  and  comfort  her? 

As  I  got  clumsily  down  the  ladder  the  last  thing 
I  saw  —  and  the  picture  bit  its  lines  in  strange 
fashion  on  my  memory  —  was  the  other  ship,  a 
league  behind  us,  black-winged  against  the  flame. 

Then  the  hatch  closed  down.  By  the  glimmer 
of  a  swinging  lanthorn  we  groped  our  way  to  a 


The  Hour  of  her  Desolation        217 

space  where  we  two  could  He  down  side  by  side. 
Marc  wanted  to  talk,  but  I  could  not.  There  was 
a  throbbing  in  my  head,  a  great  numbness  on  my 
heart.  In  my  ears  the  voice  of  the  Minas  waves 
assailing  the  ship's  timbers  seemed  to  whisper  of 
the  end  of  things.  Grand  Pre  was  gone.  I  was  being 
carried,  sick  and  in  chains,  to  some  far-off  land  of 
strangers.  My  beloved  was  cared  for  by  another. 

"  No  !  "  said  I  in  my  heart  (I  thought  at  first  I 
had  spoken  it  aloud,  but  Marc  did  not  stir), 
"  when  my  foot  touches  land  my  face  shall  turn 
back  to  seek  her  face  again,  though  it  be  from  the 
ends  of  earth.  It  is  vain,  but  I  will  not  give  her 
up.  I  am  not  dead  yet  —  though  hope  is  !  " 

As  I  thought  the  words  there  came  humming 
through  my  brain  that  foolish  saying  of  Mother 
P£che's.  Again  I  saw  her  on  that  spring  evening 
bending  over  my  palm  and  murmuring  —  "  Your 
heart's  desire  is  near  your  death  of  hope  /" 

"  Here  is  my  death  of  hope,  mother,"  said  I 
to  myself.  "But  where  is  my  heart's  desire?" 

And  with  that  I  laughed  harshly  —  aloud. 

It  was  an  ill  sound  in  that  place  of  bitterness, 
and  heads  were  raised  to  look  at  me.  Marc  asked, 
with  a  trace  of  apprehension  in  his  voice : 

"  What's  the  matter,  Paul  ?  Anything  to  laugh  at  ?  " 

"  Myself!  "  I  muttered. 

"  The  humour  of  the  subject  is  not  obvious," 
said  he  curtly. 


Chapter   XXX 
A  Woman's  Privilege 

I  DID  not  sleep  that  night  —  not  one  eye-wink 
—  in  the  hold  of  the  New  England  ship. 
Neither  could  I  think,  nor  even  greatly  suffer. 
Rather  I  lay  as  it  were  numbly  weltering  in  my 
despair.  What  if  I  had  known  all  that  was  going 
on  meanwhile  in  that  other  ship,  a  league  behind 
us,  sailing  under  the  lurid  sky  ! 

The  events  which  I  am  now  about  to  set  down 
were  not,  as  will  be  seen,  matter  of  my  own  ex- 
perience. I  tell  what  I  have  inferred  and  what 
has  been  told  me  —  but  told  me  from  such  lips 
and  in  such  fashion  that  I  may  indeed  be  said  to 
have  lived  it  all  myself.  It  is  more  real  to  me  than 
if  my  own  eyes  had  followed  it.  It  is  sometimes 
true  that  we  may  see  with  the  eyes  of  others  — of 
one  other  —  more  vividly  than  with  our  own. 

In  the  biggest  house  of  that  "  Colony  of  Com- 
promise "  on  the  hill  —  the  house  nearest  the 
chapel  prison  —  a  girl  stood  at  a  south  window 
watching  the  flames  in  the  village  below.  The 

218 


A  Woman's  Privilege  219 

flames,  at  least,  she  seemed  to  be  watching.  What 
she  saw  was  the  last  little  column  of  prisoners 
marching  away  from  the  chapel ;  and  her  teeth 
were  set  hard  upon  her  under  lip. 

She  was  not  thinking;  she  was  simply  clarifying 
a  confused  resolve. 

White  and  thin,  and  with  deep  purple  hollows 
under  her  great  eyes,  she  was  nevertheless  not  less 
beautiful  than  when,  a  few  months  before,  joyous 
mirth  had  flashed  from  her  every  look  and  gesture, 
as  colored  lights  from  a  fire-opal.  She  still  wore 
on  her  small  feet  moccasins  of  Indian  work;  but 
now,  in  winter,  they  were  of  heavy,  soft,  white  car- 
ibou-skin, laced  high  upon  the  ankles,  and  orna- 
mented with  quaint  pattern  of  red  and  green 
porcupine  quills.  Her  skirt  and  bodice  were  of 
creamy  woollen  cloth ;  and  over  her  shoulders, 
crossed  upon  her  breast  and  caught  in  her  girdle, 
was  spread  a  scarf  of  dark-yellow  silk.  The  little 
black  lace  shawl  was  flung  back  from  her  head, 
and  her  hands,  twisted  tightly  in  the  ends  of  it, 
were  for  a  wonder  quite  still  — tensely  still,  with 
an  air  of  final  decision.  Close  beside  her,  flung 
upon  the  back  of  a  high  wooden  settee,  lay  a  long, 
heavy,  hooded  cloak  of  grey  homespun,  such  as 
the  peasant  women  of  Acadie  were  wont  to  wear 
in  winter  as  an  over-garment. 

A  door  behind  her  opened,  but  Yvonne  did  not 
turn  her  head.  George  Anderson  came  in.  He 


22O  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

came  to  the  window,  and  tried  to  look  into  her 
eyes.  His  face  was  grave  with  anxiety,  but 
touched,  too,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  impatience 
and  relief.  He  spoke  at  once,  in  a  voice  both 
tender  and  tolerant. 

"There  go  the  last  of  them,  poor  chaps!  "  he 
said.  "  Captain  Grande  went  some  hours  ago  — 
quite  early.  I  pray,  dear,  that  now  he  is  gone  — 
to  exile  indeed,  but  in  safety  —  you  will  recover 
your  peace  of  mind,  and  throw  off  this  morbid 
mood,  and  be  just  a  little  bit  kinder  to — some 
people  !  "  And  he  tried,  with  an  awkward  timidity, 
to  take  her  hand. 

She  turned  upon  him  a  sombre,  compassionate 
gaze,  but  far-off,  almost  as  if  she  saw  him  in  a 
dream. 

"Don't  touch  me  —  just  now,"  she  said  gently, 
removing  her  hand.  "  I  must  go  out  into  the 
pastures  for  air,  I  think.  All  this  stifles  me ! 
No,  alone,  alone!"  she  added  more  quickly,  in 
answer  to  an  entreaty  in  his  eyes.  "  But,  oh,  I  am 
sorry,  so  sorry  beyond  words,  that  I  cannot  seem 
kind  to  —  some  people  !  Good-by." 

She  left  the  room,  and  closed  the  door  behind 
her.  The  door  shut  smartly.  It  sounded  like  a 
proclamation  of  her  resolve.  So  —  that  was  set- 
tled !  In  an  instant  her  whole  demeanour  changed. 
A  fire  came  back  into  her  eyes,  and  she  stepped 
with  her  old,  soft-swaying  lightness.  In  the  room 


A  Woman's  Privilege  221 

which  she  now  entered  sat  her  father  and  mother. 
The  withered  little  reminiscence  of  Versailles 
watched  at  a  window-side,  her  black  eyes  bright 
with  interest,  her  thin  lips  slightly  curved  with  an 
acerb  and  cynical  compassion.  But  Giles  de  La- 
mourie  sat  with  his  back  to  the  window,  his  face 
heavy  and  grey. 

"  This  is  too  awful !  "  he  said,  as  Yvonne  came 
up  to  him,  and,  bending  over,  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead  and  the  lips. 

"  It  is  like  a  nightmare  !  "  she  answered.  "But, 
would  you  believe  it,  papa,  the  very  shock  is  doing 
me  good?  The  suspense  —  that  kills  1  But  I  feel 
more  like  myself  than  I  have  for  weeks.  I  must 
go  out,  breathe,  and  walk  hard  in  the  open." 

De  Lamourie's  face  lightened. 

"  Thou  art  better,  little  one,"  said  he.  "  But 
why  go  alone  at  such  a  time?  Where's  George?  " 

But  Yvonne  was  already  at  her  mother's  side, 
kissing  her,  and  did  not  answer  her  father's  ques- 
tion ;  which,  indeed,  needed  no  answer,  as  he  had 
himself  seen  Anderson  go  into  th£  inner  room  and 
not  return. 

"But  where  will  you  go,  child?"  queried  her 
mother.  "  There  are  no  longer  any  left  of  your  sick 
and  your  poor  and  your  husbandless  to  visit." 

"  But  I  will  be  my  own  sick,  little  mamma," 
she  cried  nervously,  "  and  my  own  poor  —  and 
my  own  husbandless.  I  will  visit  myself.  Don't 


222  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

be  troubled  for  me,  dearies !  "  she  added,  in  a 
tender  voice.  "  I  am  so  much  better  already." 

The  next  moment  she  was  gone.  The  door 
shut  loudly  after  her. 

"  Wilful !  "  said  her  mother. 

"  Yes,  more  like  she  used  to  be.  Much 
better !  "  exclaimed  Giles  de  Lamourie,  rising 
and  looking  out  at  the  fires  in  a  moment  of  brief 
absent-mindedness.  "Yes,  much  better,  George," 
he  added,  as  Anderson  appeared  from  the  inner 
room. 

But  the  Englishman's  face  was  full  of  discom- 
fort. "  I  wish  she  would  not  go  running  out  alone 
this  way,"  said  he. 

"  Curious  that  she  should  prefer  to  be  alone, 
George,"  said  Madame  de  Lamourie,  with  delib- 
erate malice.  She  was  beginning  to  dislike  this 
man  who  so  palpably  could  not  give  her  daughter 
happiness. 

Yvonne,  meanwhile,  was  speeding  across  the 
open  fields,  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind.  The  ground 
was  hard  as  iron,  but  there  was  little  snow  —  only 
a  dry,  powdery  covering  deep  enough  to  keep  the 
stubble  from  hurting  her  feet.  She  ran  straight 
for  the  tiny  cabin  of  Mother  P£che,  trusting  to  find 
her  not  yet  gone.  None  of  the  houses  at  the  east- 
ern end  of  the  village  were  as  yet  on  fire.  That 
of  Mother  Pe'che  stood  a  little  apart,  in  a  bushy 


A  Woman's  Privilege  223 

pasture-lot.  Yvonne  found  the  low  door  swinging 
wide,  the  house  deserted ;  but  there  were  red 
embers  still  on  the  hearth,  whereby  she  knew  the 
old  woman  had  not  been  long  away. 

The  empty  house  seemed  to  whisper  of  fear  and 
grief  from  every  corner.  She  turned  away  and  ran 
toward  the  landing,  her  heart  chilled  with  a  sudden 
apprehension  that  she  might  be  too  late.  Before 
she  was  clear  of  the  bushes,  however,  she  stopped 
with  a  cry.  A  man  who  seemed  to  have  risen  out 
of  the  ground  stood  right  in  her  path.  He  was  of 
a  sturdy  figure,  somewhat  short,  and  clad  in  dull- 
coloured  homespun  of  peasant  fashion.  At  sight 
of  her  beauty  and  her  alarm  his  woollen  cap  was 
snatched 'from  his  head  and  his  cunning  face  took 
on  the  utmost  deference. 

"  Have  no  fear  of  me,  mademoiselle,  —  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lamourie,  if  I  may  hazard  a  guess  from 
your  beauty,"  said  he  smoothly.  "  It  is  I  who  am 
in  peril,  lest  you  should  reveal  me  to  my  enemies." 

"Who  are  you,  monsieur?"  she  asked,  recover- 
ing her  self-possession  and  fretting  to  be  gone. 

"  A  spy,"  he  whispered,  "  in  the  pay  of  the 
King  of  France,  who  must  know,  to  avenge  them 
later,  the  wrongs  of  his  people  here  in  Acadie.  I 
have  thrown  myself  on  your  mercy,  that  I  might  ask 
you  if  the  families  who  have  found  favour  with  the 
English  will  remain  here  after  this  work  is  done, 
or  be  taken  elsewhere.  I  pray  you  inform  me." 


224  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Believe  me,  I  do  not  know  their  plans,  mon- 
sieur," answered  Yvonne.  "  And  I  beg  you  to  let 
me  pass,  for  my  haste  is  desperate." 

"  Let  me  escort  you  to  the  edge  of  the  bush,  then, 
mademoiselle,"  said  he  courteously,  stepping  from 
the  path.  "  And  not  to  delay  you,  I  will  question 
you  as  we  go,  if  you  will  permit.  Is  the  English- 
man, Monsieur  George  Anderson,  still  here?" 

"  He  is,  monsieur.  But  now  leave  me,  I  entreat 
you." 

She  was  wild  with  fear  lest  the  stranger's  pres- 
ence should  frustrate  her  design. 

The  man  smiled. 

"  I  dare  go  no  farther  with  you  than  the  field 
edge,  mademoiselle,"  said  he  regretfully.  "To  be 
caught  would  mean  "  —  and  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
throat  with  ghastly  suggestion. 

Relieved  from  this  anxiety,  Yvonne  paused  when 
she  reached  the  open. 

"  I  must  ask  you  a  question  in  turn,  monsieur," 
said  she.  "  Have  you  chanced  to  learn  on  which 
of  the  two  ships  Captain  de  Mer  and  Captain 
Grande  were  placed?" 

"  I  have  been  so  fortunate,"  replied  the  stranger, 
and  the  triumph  in  his  thought  found  no  expression 
in  his  deferential  tone  or  deep-set  eyes.  Here  was 
the  point  he  had  been  studying  to  approach.  Here 
was  a.  chance  to  worst  a  foe  and  win  favour  from 
the  still  powerful,  though  far-distant,  Black  Abbe. 


A  Woman's   Privilege  225 

He  paused,  and  Yvonne  had  scarce  breath  to 
cry  "Which?  " 

"  They  are  in  the  ship  this  way,"  he  said 
calmly.  "  The  one  still  at  anchor." 

"  Thank  you,  monsieur !  "  she  cried,  with  a 
passion  in  the  simple  words ;  and  was  straightway 
off  across  the  red-lit  snow,  her  cloak  streaming 
out  behind  her. 

"  The  beauty  !  "  said  the  man  to  himself,  lurking 
in  the  bushes  to  follow  her  with  his  eyes.  "  Pity 
to  lie  to  her.  But  she's  leaving  —  and  that  stabs 
Anderson ;  and  she's  going  on  the  wrong  ship  — 
and  that  stabs  Grande.  Both  at  a  stroke.  Not 
bad  for  a  day  like  this." 

And  with  a  look  of  hearty  satisfaction  on  his 
face  Le  Furet1  (for  Vaurin's  worthy  lieutenant  it 
was)  withdrew  to  safer  covert. 

Le  Furet  smiled  to  himself;  but  Yvonne  almost 
laughed  aloud  as  she  ran,  deaf  to  the  growing  roar 
at  the  farther  end  of  the  village  and  heedless  of 
the  flaring  crimson  that  made  the  air  like  blood. 
The  wharf,  when  she  reached  it,  was  in  a  final  spasm 
of  confusion,  and  shouted  orders,  and  sobbings. 
Now,  she  grew  cautious.  Drawing  her  cloak  close 
about  her  face,  she  pushed  through  the  crowd 
toward  the  boat. 

Just  then  a  firm  hand  was  laid  upon  her  arm, 

1  None  of  Vaurin's  villains  were  taken  by  the  English  at  the  time  of 
the  great  capture,  for  none  dared  come  within  a  league  of  an  English 
proclamation  lest  it  should  turn  into  a  rope  to  throttle  them.  —  P.  G. 


226  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

and  a  very  low  voice  said  in  her  ear,  —  with  less 
surprise,  to  be  sure,  than  on  a  former  occasion  by 
Gaspereau  lower  ford,  — 

"  You  here,  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie?  " 

Her  heart  stood  still ;  and  she  turned  upon  him 
a  look  of  such  imploring,  desperate  dismay  that 
Lieutenant  Waldron  without  another  word  drew 
her  to  one  side.  Then  she  found  voice. 

"  Oh,  if  yo«  have  any  mercy,  any  pity,  do  not 
betray  me,"  she  whispered. 

"  But  what  does  this  mean  ?  It  is  my  duty  to 
ask,"  he  persisted,  still  puzzled. 

"  I  am  trying  to  save  my  life,  my  soul,  everything, 
before  it's  too  late  !  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  comprehending  suddenly. 
"  Well,  I  think  you  had  better  not  tell  me  any- 
thing more.  I  think  it  is  not  my  duty  to  say  any- 
thing about  this  meeting.  You  may  be  doing 
right.  I  wish  you  good  fortune  and  good-by, 
mademoiselle  !  "  —  and,  to  her  wonder,  he  was  off 
among  the  crowd. 

Still  trembling  from  the  encounter,  she  hastened 
to  the  boat. 

She  found  it  already  half  laden ;  and  in  the 
stern,  to  her  delight,  she  saw  Mother  Pe'che's  red 
mantle.  She  was  on  the  point  of  calling  to  her, 
but  checked  herself  just  in  time.  The  boat  was 
twenty  paces  from  the  wharf-edge ;  and  those 
twenty  paces  were  deep  ooze,  intolerable  beyond 


A  Woman's  Privilege  227 

measure  to  white  moccasins.  Absorbed  in  her 
one  purpose,  which  was  to  get  on  board  the  ship 
without  delay,  she  had  not  looked  to  one  side  or  the 
other,  but  had  regarded  women,  children,  soldiers, 
boatmen,  as  so  many  bushes  to  be  pushed  through. 
Now,  however,  letting  her  hood  part  a  little  from 
her  face,  she  glanced  hither  and  thither  with  her 
quick  imperiousness,  and  then  from  her  feet  to 
that  breadth  of  slime,  as  if  demanding  an  instant 
bridge.  The  next  thing  she  knew  she  was  lifted  by 
a  pair  of  stout  arms  and  carried  swiftly  through 
the  mud  to  the  boat-side. 

After  a  moment's  hot  flush  of  indignation  at 
the  liberty,  she  realized  that  this  was  by  far  the 
best  possible  solution  of  the  problem,  as  there 
was  no  bridge  forthcoming.  She  looked  up  grate- 
fully, and  saw  that  her  cavalier  was  a  big  red-coat, 
with  a  boyish,  jolly  face.  As  he  gently  set  her 
down  in  the  boat  she  gave  him  a  radiant  look 
which  brought  the  very  blood  to  his  ears. 

"  Thank  you  very  much  indeed !  "  she  said,  in 
an  undertone.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have 
managed  but  for  your  kindness.  But  really  it  is 
very  wrong  of  you  to  take  such  trouble  about  me  ; 
for  I  see  these  other  poor  things  have  had  to  wade 
through  the  mud,  and  their  skirts  are  terrible." 

The  big  red-coat  stood  gazing  at  her  in  open- 
mouthed  adoration,  speechless ;  but  a  comrade, 
busy  in  the  boat  stowing  baggage,  answered  for  him. 


228  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  That's  all  right,  miss,"  said  he.  "  Don't  you 
worry  about  Eph.  He's  been  carryin'  children  all 
day  long,  an'  some  few  women  because  they  was 
sick.  He's  arned  the  right  to  carry  one  woman 
jest  fer  her  beauty." 

In  some  confusion  Yvonne  turned  away,  very 
fearful  of  being  recognized.  She  hurriedly 
squeezed  herself  down  in  the  stern  by  Mother 
P£che.  The  old  dame's  hand  sought  hers,  fur- 
tively, under  the  cloak. 

"  I  went  to  look  for  you,  mother,"  she  whis- 
pered into  the  red  shawl. 

"  I  knew  you'd  come,  poor  heart,  dear  heart !  " 
muttered  the  old  woman,  with  a  swift  peering  of  her 
strange  eyes  into  the  shadow  of  the  girl's  hood. 

"  I  waited  for  you  till  they  dragged  me  away. 
But  I  knew  you'd  come." 

"  How  did  you  know  that,  mother?  "  whispered 
Yvonne,  delighted  to  find  that  this  momentous  act 
of  hers  had  seemed  to  some  one  just  the  expected 
and  inevitable  thing.  "  Why,  I  didn't  know  it  my- 
self till  half  an  hour  ago." 

Mother  P£che  looked  wise  and  mysterious. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  reiterated.  "  Why,  dear  heart, 
I  knew  all  along  you  loved  him." 

And  at  last,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  this 
seemed  to  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  penniless,  going 
into  exile  with  the  companionship  of  misery,  an 
all-sufficient  and  all-explicative  answer. 


Chapter   XXXI 
Young  Will    and  Old  Wisdom 

MOTHER  P£CHE  lived  to  do  good  deeds, 
and  loved  to  think  she  did  them  from  an 
ill  motive.  Her  witchcraft,  devoutly  believed  in 
by  herself,  and  by  a  good  half  of  Grand  Pre  as 
well,  was  never  known  to  curse,  but  ever  to  bless ; 
yet  its  white  magic  she  called  black  art.  There 
was  no  one  sick,  there  was  no  one  sorrowful,  there 
was  no  child  in  all  Grand  Pre,  but  loved  her ;  yet 
it  was  her  whim  to  believe  herself  feared,  and  in 
hourly  peril  of  anathema.  Even  Father  Fafard, 
whom  she  affected  to  deride,  but  in  truth  vastly 
reverenced,  found  it  hard  to  maintain  a  proper 
show  of  austerity  toward  this  incomprehensible 
old  woman. 

The  boat,  soon  loaded,  went  dragging  through 
the  flame-lit  tide  toward  the  ship.  The  old  dame 
sat  clutching  Yvonne's  hand  under  the  warm  pri- 
vacy of  the  cloak.  Here  was  a  weight  off  her  mind. 
She  loved  Yvonne  de  Lamourie  and  Paul  Grande 
better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world ;  and  with 

229 


230  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

all  her  heart  she  believed  that  to  hold  them  apart 
would  mean  ruin  to  others  in  the  end,  as  well  as 
to  themselves.  This  which  had  now  come  about 
(she  had  trembled  lest  Yvonne  should  not  prove 
quite  strong  enough  at  the  last)  seemed  to  her  the 
best  exit  from  a  bad  closure.  Anderson  she  had 
ever  regarded  with  hostile  and  unreasoning  con- 
tempt; and  now  it  suited  her  whim  to  tell  herself 
that  a  part  of  her  present  satisfaction  lay  in  the 
thought  of  him  so  ignominiously  thwarted.  But 
in  very  truth  she  believed  that  the  thwarting  was 
for  his  good ;  that  he  would  recover  from  his  hurt 
in  time,  and  see  himself  well  saved  from  the  life- 
long mordancy  of  a  loveless  marriage.  In  a  word, 
what  Mother  P£che  wanted  was  the  good  of  those 
she  loved,  and  as  little  ill  as  might  be  to  those 
she  accounted  enemies. 

Though  the  boat  was  packed  with  intimates  of 
hers,  she  was  absorbed  in  studying  so  much  of 
Yvonne's  face  as  could  be  seen  through  the  half- 
drawn  hood.  "  She  is,  indeed,  much  better  al- 
ready," said  the  old  dame  to  herself.  "  This  was 
the  one  medicine." 

Yvonne,  for  her  part,  had  no  eyes  but  for  the 
ship  she  was  approaching.  Eagerly  she  scanned 
the  bulwarks.  Women's  heads,  and  children's,  she 
saw  in  plenty;  but  no  men,  save  the  sailors  and  a 
few  red-coats. 

"  Are  none  of  the  —  are  there  no  men  on  this 


Young  Will  and  Old  Wisdom    231 

ship?  "  she  whispered  to  Mother  P£che,  in  a  sud- 
den awful  doubt. 

"  But  think,  cherie"  muttered  the  old  woman, 
"  these  men  are  dangerous.  Would  they  be  left 
on  deck  like  women  and  children?  But  no,  indeed. 
They  are  in  the  hold,  surely;  and  in  irons  belike. 
But  they  are  there  —  or  on  the  other  ship,"  she 
added  uneasily  in  her  heart. 

By  this  the  boat  was  come  to  the  ship-side.  By 
some  one's  carelessness  it  was  not  rightly  fended, 
and  was  suffered  to  bump  heavily.  One  gunwale 
dipped;  an  icy  flood  poured  in;  there  was  immi- 
nent peril  of  swamping. 

Women  jumped  up  with  screams,  and  chil- 
dren caught  at  them,  terror-stricken  by  the 
looming  black  wall  of  the  ship's  side.  The 
boat-men  cursed  fiercely.  The  two  soldiers  in 
the  boat  shouted :  "  Sit  down !  damn  you !  sit 
down ! "  with  such  authority  that  all  obeyed 
at  once.  The  shrill  clamour  ceased ;  the  peril 
was  over;  the  embarkation  went  on.  Mother 
P£che,  with  nerves  of  steel,  had  but  gripped  the 
more  firmly  upon  Yvonne's  hand.  As  for 
Yvonne,  she  had  apparently  taken  no  note  of 
the  disturbance. 

Driven  by  a  consuming  purpose,  which  had 
gathered  new  fuel  from  the  picture  of  the  fettered 
captives  in  the  hold,  Yvonne  had  no  sooner 
reached  the  deck  than  she  started  off  to  find  the 


232  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

captain.     But  Mother  P£che  was  at  her  elbow  on 
the  instant,  clinging  to  her. 

"  I  must  see  the  captain  at  once !  "  exclaimed 
Yvonne,  "  and  make  some  inquiry  —  find  out 
something!  " 

"  Yes,  cherie"  whispered  the  old  dame,  with 
loving  irony,  "  and  get  yourself  recognized,  and 
be  taken  back  next  boat  to  Monsieur  George 
Anderson." 

The  girl's  head  drooped.  She  saw  how  near 
she  had  been  to  undoing  herself  through  impa- 
tience. She  submissively  followed  the  red  shawl 
to  a  retired  place  near  the  bow  of  the  ship.  There 
the  two  settled  themselves  into  a  warm  nest  of 
beds  and  blankets,  wherefrom  they  could  watch 
the  end  of  the  embarking.  But  what  more 
engrossed  their  eyes  was  the  end  of  Grand  Pre ; 
for  by  now  the  sea  of  fire  was  roaring  over  more 
than  half  the  village,  the  whole  world  seemed 
awash  with  ruddy  air,  and  the  throbs  of  scorching 
heat,  even  at  their  distance  and  with  the  wind 
blowing  from  them,  made  them  cover  their  faces 
from  time  to  time  and  marvel  if  this  could  be  a 
December  night. 

Fascinated  by  the  monstrous  roar,  the  mad  red 
light,  the  rolling  level  canopy  of  cloud,  the  old 
woman  sat  a  long  time  silent,  her  startling  eyes 
very  wide  open,  her  hawk  face  set  in  rigid  lines. 
But  the  lines  softened,  the  eyes  filmed  suddenly, 


"  But  what  more  engrossed  their  eyes  was  the  end  of 
Grand  Pre." 


Young  Will  and  Old  Wisdom    233 

at  a  sound  close  beside  her.  Yvonne  had  buried 
her  face  in  a  coloured  quilt,  and  was  sobbing 
tempestuously. 

"  It  is  well !  It  had  to  come !  It  was  just  a 
pulling  of  herself  up  by  the  roots  to  leave  her 
father  and  mother,  poor  heart !  "  thought  the  old 
woman  to  herself.  Then  after  a  few  minutes,  she 
said  aloud : 

"  That  is  right,  dear  heart !  Cry  all  you  can. 
Cry  it  all  out.  You  have  held  it  back  too  long." 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  leave  them  so?  How  could 
I  be  so  cruel?"  moaned  the  girl,  catching  her 
breath  at  every  word  or  two.  "  They  will  die  of 
sorrow,  I  know  they  will !  " 

"  No,  cherie,  they  will  not  die  of  sorrow,"  said 
the  old  dame  softly.  "  They  will  grieve ;  but 
they  have  each  other.  And  they  will  see  you 
again ;  and  they  will  know  you  are  safe,  with  your 
—  husband"  she  finished  slowly. 

Yvonne  was  silent  at  the  word ;  but  it  was  not 
repeated,  though  she  listened  for  it. 

"But  how  will  they  know  I  am  safe?"  she 
asked. 

"  Because,"  said  the  old  woman,  rising  nimbly 
to  her  feet,  "  the  sailors  are  getting  up  the  anchor 
now,  and  there  is  the  last  boat  returning  to  the 
land.  I  go  to  send  word  by  them,  saying  where 
you  are.  It  is  too  late  for  any  one  to  follow  you 
now." 


234  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

She  went  to  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  called  to 
the  boat  as  it  rowed  away : 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness,  gentlemen,  to 
send  word  to  Monsieur  de  Lamourie  that  his 
daughter  is  safe  and  well,  and  that  she  has  of  her 
own  choice  gone  into  exile  for  a  reason  which  he 
will  understand ;  but  that  she  will  come  back,  with 
love,  when  things  are  something  changed?" 

The  boat  stopped,  and  the  soldiers  listened  with 
astonishment  to  this  strange  message.  There  was 
a  moment  of  indecision,  and  she  trembled  lest  the 
boat  should  put  back.  But  there  was  no  one 
aboard  with  authority  to  thwart  the  will  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Lamourie,  so  a  doubtful  voice  cried : 

"  The  message  shall  be  delivered." 

The  oars  dipped  again,  and  the  boat  ran  swiftly 
toward  the  landing ;  and  the  ship  sped  smoothly 
out  with  the  tide. 

The  hawk  face  in  the  red  shawl  hurried  back  to 
Yvonne.  The  girl,  sorely  overwrought,  had  once 
more  buried  her  head  in  the  quilt,  that  she  might 
the  more  unrestrainedly  give  way  to  her  tears. 
Though  she  had  no  least  dream  of  going  back, 
nevertheless  the  sending  of  the  message,  and  the 
realization  that  the  ship  was  actually  under  way,  had 
overwhelmed  her.  Moreover,  it  had  been  for 
weeks  that  she  had  endured  the  great  strain  dry- 
eyed,  her  breast  anguished  for  the  relief  of  tears. 
Now  that  the  relief  had  come,  however,  it  threat- 


Young  Will  and  Old  Wisdom     235 

ened  to  grow  excessive,  too  exhausting  in  its 
violence.  Mother  Pe~che  sat  beside  her,  watching 
for  a  while  in  silence.  Then  she  r.eemed  to  think 
the  passionate  outburst  should  be  checked.  But 
she  was  far  too  wise  to  say  so. 

"  That's  right,  dearie,"  murmured  the  subtle 
old  dame  at  the  girl's  ear.  "Just  cry  as  hard  as 
you  like,  if  it  does  you  good.  There's  so  many 
women  crying  on  this  ship,  poor  souls,  that  you're 
no  ways  noticeable." 

So  many  women  crying !  True,  they  had  not 
the  same  to  cry  about  that  she  had,  but  Yvonne 
felt  that  her  grief  was  suddenly  cheapened.  She 
must  try  to  be  less  weak  than  those  others.  With 
an  obstinate  effort  she  strangled  her  sobs.  Her 
shoulders  heaved  convulsively  for  a  minute  or  two, 
and  then,  with  a  strong  shudder,  she  sat  up, 
throwing  back  her  deep  hair  and  resolutely  dash- 
ing the  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"What  a  fool  I  am,  mother!"  she  cried. 
"  Here  am  I,  where,  after  weeks  of  dreadful  think- 
ing, I  deliberately  made  up  my  mind  to  be.  And 
I  do  not  repent  my  decision  —  no,  not  for  one 
instant.  It  had  to  be.  Yet  —  why,  I'm  acting 
just  like  a  baby !  But  now  I'm  done  with  tears, 
mother.  You  shall  see  that  I  am  strong  enough 
for  what  I've  undertaken." 

"  Of  course  you  are,  dear  heart !  "  said  the  old 
woman  softly.  "  The  bravest  of  us  women  must 


236  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

have  our  cry  once  in  a  while,  or  something  is  sure 
to  go  wrong  inside  of  us." 

"  And  now  hadn't  I  better  find  the  captain,  and 
ask  who's  on  board?"  cried  Yvonne,  springing 
lightly  to  her  feet,  and  no  longer  troubling  to  keep 
the  hood  about  her  face. 

"  But  no,  cherie!  "  urged  the  old  woman.  "  Don't 
you  see  how  every  one  is  still  busy,  and  shouting, 
and  cursing,  and  unpleasant?  This  is  not  the  time. 
Wait  just  a  little.  And  tell  me,  now,  how  you  got 
away." 

Yvonne  sat  down  again,  and  told  the  whole 
story,  vividly,  with  light  in  her  eyes,  and  with 
those  revealing  gestures  of  her  small  hands.  The 
old  woman's  face  darkened  at  the  tale  of  the  spy. 

"  And  so  you  see,  mother,"  she  concluded, 
"  I  feel  very  confident  that  he  is  in  this  ship  — 
for  the  man  could  have  no  reason  to  lie  to  me 
about  it.  I  am  sure  from  his  face  that  he  is  the 
kind  of  man  to  do  nothing  without  a  reason." 

"  Tell  me  what  he  looked  like,  cherie!  "  said  the 
old  woman,  the  whites  of  her  eyes  flashing  nervously. 

Yvonne  described  him  —  she  made  him  stand 
there  on  the  deck  before  them.  Mother  P£che 
knew  that  picture  well.  Le  Furet  was  one  of  the 
few  living  creatures  she  feared.  She  rose  to  her 
feet,  and  involuntarily  cast  an  eager  look  in  the 
direction  of  the  other  ship,  whose  sails,  a  league 
away,  shone  scarlet  in  that  disastrous  light. 


Young  Will  and  Old  Wisdom     237 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Yvonne,  in  swift 
alarm. 

"  My  old  legs  need  stretching.  I  was  too  long 
still,"  said  Mother  Pe~che. 

"  No,  you  are  troubled  at  something.  Tell  me 
at  once,"  cried  Yvonne,  rising  also,  and  letting  her 
cloak  drop. 

"Yes,  cherie,  yes!"  answered  the  old  woman, 
much  agitated,  and  not  daring  to  deceive  her.  "  I 
am  much  troubled.  That  was  Le  Furet,  Vaurin's 
man,  whom  Captain  Grande  knocked  down  that 
day  at  the  forge.  He  would  do  anything.  He 
would  lie  even  to  you  !  " 

Yvonne  grew  pale  to  the  lips. 

"Then  you  think  Paul  is  not"  —  she  began,  in 
a  strained  voice. 

"  I  think  he  may  not  be  in  this  ship,"  interrupted 
Mother  P£che  hurriedly.  "  But  I'll  go  right  now 
and  find  out.  Wait  here  for  me."  And  she  went  off 
briskly,  poking  through  the  confusion  with  her  staff. 

She  knew  men,  this  old  dame ;  and  she  quickly 
found  out  what  she  wanted  to  find  out.  Trembling 
with  apprehension,  she  came  back  to  Yvonne  — 
and  went  straight  to  the  point. 

"  No,  no,  dear  heart !  "  she  began.  "  He  is 
not  here.  He  is  on  the  other  ship  yonder.  I 
have  a  plan,  though  "  — 

But  there  was  no  use  going  on ;  for  Yvonne 
had  dropped  in  a  faint. 


Chapter   XXXII 

Aboard  the  "  Good  Hope  " 

MOTHER  PECHE  was  not  alarmed,  but,  like 
the  shrewd  strategist  she  was,  made  haste 
to  turn  the  evil  to  good  account.  She  sum- 
moned a  soldier —  by  excellent  chance  that  same 
boyish-faced,  tall  fellow  who  had  so  patly  aided 
at  the  embarking ;  and  he  with  the  best  will  in  the 
world  and  a  fluttering  in  his  breast  carried  Yvonne 
straight  to  the  captain's  cabin,  where  he  laid  her 
upon  the  berth.  Then,  at  Mother  P£che's  request, 
he  went  to  beg  the  captain's  presence  for  an  in- 
stant in  his  cabin. 

The  ship  was  now  well  under  way,  directed  by  a 
pilot  who  knew  the  shoals  and  bars  of  Minas.  The 
business  of  stowing  baggage  was  in  the  hands  of 
petty  officers.  The  captain  could  be  spared  for  a 
little ;  and  without  doubt  the  soldier's  manner  pro- 
claimed more  clearly  than  words  that  here  was  no 
affair  of  a  weeping  peasant.  To  such  the  captain 
would  just  now  have  turned  a  deaf  ear,  for  he  had 
all  day  been  striving  to  harden  his  heart  against  the 

238 


Aboard  the  "  Good  Hope  "         239 

sight  of  sorrows  which  he  could  not  mitigate.  He 
was  an  iron-grey,  close-bearded  man,  this  New 
England  captain,  with  a  stern  mouth  and  half- 
shut,  twinkling  eyes.  Rough  toward  men,  he  was 
gentle  toward  women,  children,  and  animals.  His 
name  was  John  Stayner;  and  in  Machias,  Maine, 
whence  he  hailed,  he  had  a  motherless  daughter 
of  eighteen,  the  core  of  his  heart,  who  was  com- 
monly said  to  rule  him  as  the  moon  rules  ocean. 
When  John  Stayner  went  to  the  cabin  and  saw 
Yvonne  in  his  berth,  her  white  eyelids  just  stirring 
to  the  first  return  of  consciousness,  there  was  small 
need  of  Mother  Pe'che's  explanations.  The  girl's 
astonishing  loveliness,  her  gentle  breeding,  the 
plain  signals  of  her  distress,  all  moved  him  beyond 
his  wont.  He  straightway  saw  his  own  dark-haired 
Essie  in  like  case  —  and  forthwith,  stirred  by  that 
fine  chivalry  which  only  a  strong  man  far  past 
youth  can  know,  he  was  on  Yvonne's  side,  though 
all  the  world  should  be  against'her. 

As  if  their  low  voices  were  remote  and  speaking 
in  a  tongue  but  half  understood,  Yvonne  heard 
them  talking  of  her  —  the  old  woman  explaining 
swiftly,  concisely,  directly;  the  New  Englander 
speaking  but  now  and  then  a  word  of  comprehen- 
sion. His  warmth  reached  Yvonne's  heart.  She 
opened  her  great  eyes  wide,  and  looked  up  into 
the  man's  face  with  a  trustful  content. 

His  own  eyes  filled  in  response.     To  him  it  was 


240  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

much  the  look  of  his  Essie.  He  touched  her  hand 
with  his  rough  fingers,  and  said  hastily,  "This  cabin 
is  yours,  Miss  —  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie,  I 
mean,  so  long  as  you  are  on  this  ship.  Good-night. 
I  have  much  to  do.  Take  care  of  her,"  he  added, 
with  a  sudden  tone  of  authority,  turning  to  Mother 
Pe~che.  "  To-morrow,  when  we  are  clear  of  these 
shoals  and  eddies,  we'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

And  before  Yvonne  could  control  her  voice  or 
wits  to  thank  him,  he  was  away. 

She  turned  shining  eyes  upon  the  old  woman. 

"What  makes  him  so  kind?"  she  murmured, 
still  half  bewildered.  "And  what  will  he  do?" 

"  He  is  a  good  man,"  said  Mother  P£che,  with 
decision.  "  I  believe  he  will  send  us  in  a  boat  to 
the  other  ship,  at  the  very  first  chance." 

Yvonne's  face  grew  radiant.  She  was  silent  with 
the  thought  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  she  glanced 
about  the  cabin. 

"How  did  I  come  here?"  she  asked,  raising 
herself  on  her  elbow'. 

"  This  is  the  captain's  own  cabin,  cherie"  said  the 
old  woman,  with  triumph  in  her  voice.  "  And  a 
big,  boy-faced  red-coat  carried  you  here,  at  my 
request,  and  looked  as  if  he'd  like  to  keep  on  carry- 
ing you  forever." 

"  I  cannot  sleep  now,  mother !  "  exclaimed  the 
girl,  slipping  out  of  the  berth  and  drawing  the 
woollen  cloak  about  her.  "  Let  us  go  on  deck 


Aboard  the  "  Good  Hope  "         241 

awhile.  Morning  will  come  the  more  quickly 
so." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  And  I  would  look  a  last  look 
on  Grand  Pre,  if  only  on  the  flames  of  its  dear 
roofs,"  agreed  the  old  woman,  obediently 
smothering  a  deep  yawn.  In  truth,  now  that 
things  bade  fair  to  work  her  will,  she  wanted  nothing 
so  much  as  a  good  sleep.  But  whatever  Yvonne 
wanted  was  the  chief  thing  in  her  eyes.  The  two 
went  on  deck,  and  huddled  themselves  under  the 
lee  of  the  cabin,  for  there  was  a  bitter  wind  blow- 
ing, and  the  ship  was  too  far  from  Grand  Pre  now 
to  feel  the  heat  of  the  conflagration.  The  roaring 
of  it,  too,  was  at  this  distance  diminished  to  a  huge 
but  soft  sub-bass,  upon  which  the  creaking  of 
cordage,  the  whistling  of  the  wind,  the  slapping  of 
the  thin-crested  waves,  built  up  a  sort  of  bitter, 
singing  harmony  which  thrilled  Yvonne's  ears. 
The  whole  village  was  now  burning,  a  wide  and 
terrifying  arc  of  flame  from  the  Gaspereau  banks 
to  the  woodland  lying  toward  Habitants.  Above 
it  towered  the  chapel,  a  fixed  serenity  amid  destruc- 
tion. It  held  Yvonne's  eyes  for  a  while ;  but  soon 
they  turned  away,  to  follow  the  lit  sails  of  the  other 
ship,  now  fleeting  toward  the  foot  of  Blomidon.  At 
last,  with  a  shiver,  she  said  to  her  sleepy  companion  : 

"  Come,  mother,  let  us  go  back  into  the  cabin  and 
sleep,  and  dream  what  morning  may  bring  to  pass." 


242  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

That  of  all  which  morning  should  bring  to  pass 
nothing  might  be  missed,  Yvonne  was  up  and  out 
on  deck  at  the  earliest  biting  daylight.  She  found 
the  ship  already  well  past  Blomidon,  the  vale  of 
desolation  quite  shut  from  view.  To  west  and 
north  the  sky  was  clear,  of  a  hard,  steely  pallor. 
The  wind  was  light,  but  enough  to  control  the 
dense  smoke  which  still  choked  the  greater  half  of 
the  heavens.  It  lay  banked,  as  it  were,  sluggishly 
and  blackly  revolving  itself  along  the  wooded  ridge 
that  runs  southward  from  Blomidon.  Straight 
ahead,  across  a  wintry  reach  of  sea,  sped  the  other 
ship,  with  all  sail  set.  It  seemed  to  Yvonne's  eyes 
that  she  was  much  farther  ahead  than  the  night 
before,  and  sailing  with  a  dreadful  swiftness. 

"  Oh,  we  can  never  catch  up  ! "  she  cried,  press- 
ing one  hand  to  her  side  and  throwing  back  her 
head  with  a  half-despairing  gesture. 

Mother  P£che,  who  had  just  come  on  deck, 
looked  troubled.  "  We  do  certainly  seem  to  be 
no  nearer,"  she  agreed  reluctantly. 

At  this  moment  the  captain  came  up,  smiling 
kindly.  He  took  Yvonne's  hand. 

"  I  hope  you  have  slept,  mademoiselle,  and  are 
feeling  better,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  thanks  to  your  great  kindness," 
answered  Yvonne,  trying  to  smile,  "  but  is  not 
the  other  ship  getting  very  far  ahead  ?  She  seems 
to  sail  much  faster  than  we  do." 


Aboard  the  "  Good  Hope  "         243 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said 
John  Stayner,  "the  'Good  Hope'  is  much  the 
faster  ship  of  the  two.  We  shall  overhaul  them, 
with  this  breeze,  one  hour  before  noon." 

"  Will  we  ?  "  cried  Yvonne,  with  other  questions 
crowding  into  her  eyes  and  voice. 

The  stern  mouth  smiled  with  understanding  kind- 
ness. 

"  If  we  do  not,  I  promise  you  I  will  signal  them 
to  wait,"  said  he.  "  I  find  three  families  on  this 
ship  whose  men-folk  are  on  the  other.  It  was 
great  carelessness  on  some  one's  part.  I  will 
send  them  in  the  boat  with  you,  mademoiselle,  — 
and  gather  in  as  many  blessings  as  I  can  out  of 
this  whole  accursed  business." 

"As  long  as  I  live,  monsieur,  there  will  be 
one  woman  at  least  ever  blessing  you  and  pray- 
ing for  your  happiness."  And  suddenly  seizing 
his  hand  in  both  of  hers  Yvonne  pressed  it  to  her 
lips. 

A  look  of  boyish  embarrassment  came  over  his 
weather-beaten  face. 

"  Don't  do  that,  child  !  "  he  stammered.  Then, 
looking  with  a  quizzical  interest  at  the  spot  she  had 
kissed,  he  went  on :  "  This  old  hand  is  something 
rough  and  tarry  for  a  woman's  lips.  But  do  you 
know,  now,  I  kind  of  think  more  of  it,  rough  as  it 
is,  than  I  ever  did  before.  If  ever,  child,  you 
should  want  a  friend  in  that  country  of  ours  you're 


244  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

going  to,  remember  that  Captain  John  Stayner,  of 
Machias,  Maine,  is  at  your  call." 

To  escape  thanks  he  strode  off  abruptly,  with  a 
loud  order  on  his  lips. 

Easy  in  her  mind,  Mother  Pe:che  went  back  to 
capture  a  little  more  sleep,  Yvonne's  restlessness 
having  roused  her  too  early.  As  for  Yvonne,  she 
never  knew  quite  how  that  morning,  up  to  the 
magical  period  of  "  one  hour  before  noon,"  man- 
aged to  drag  its  unending  minutes  through.  It  is 
probable  that  she  ate  some  pretence  of  a  break- 
fast ;  but  her  memory,  at  least,  retained  no  record 
of  it.  All  she  remembered  was  that  she  sat 
huddled  in  her  cloak,  or  paced  up  and  down  the 
deck  and  talked  of  she  knew  not  what  to  the  kind 
Captain  John  Stayner,  and  watched  the  space  of 
sea  between  the  ships  slowly  —  slowly  —  slowly 
diminish. 

For  diminish  it  did.  That  marvel,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  actually  took  place  —  as  even  the  watched 
pot  will  boil  at  last,  if  the  fire  be  kept  burning. 
While  it  yet  wanted  more  than  an  hour  of  noon, 
the  two  ships  came  near  abreast ;  and  at  an  im- 
perative hail  from  the  "  Good  Hope  "  her  consort 
hove  to.  A  boat  was  quickly  lowered  away. 
Four  sailors  took  the  oars.  Two  women  surrounded 
by  children  of  all  sizes  were  swung  down  into  it ; 
then  the  gratefully  ejaculating  old  mother  of  Petit 
Joliet,  the  tear-stains  of  a  sleepless  night  still  salty 


Aboard  the  "  Good  Hope  "         245 

in  the  wrinkles  of  her  smiles ;  then  Mother  P£che, 
serene  in  the  sense  of  an  astonishing  good  fortune 
for  those  she  loved ;  last  of  all,  Yvonne  —  she 
went  last,  for  self-discipline. 

As  Captain  John  Stayner  moved  to  hand  her 
over  the  side,  she  turned  and  looked  him  in  the 
eyes.  The  words  she  wanted  to  say  simply  would 
not  come  —  or  she  dared  not  trust  her  voice;  but 
the  radiance  of  her  look  he  carried  in  his  heart 
through  after-years.  A  minute  more,  and  the 
boat  dropped  astern ;  and  Yvonne's  eyes  were  all 
for  the  other  ship.  But  Mother  Pe"che  looked 
back ;  and  she  saw,  leaning  hungrily  over  the 
taffrail  of  the  "  Good  Hope,"  the  long  form  of  the 
boy-faced  soldier  who  had  twice  carried  Yvonne 
in  his  fortunate  arms. 


Chapter  XXXIII 
The  Divine  Right  of  Queens 

WHEN  Yvonne  stood  at  last  upon  the  deck 
of  the  ship  of  her  desire,  her  heart,  with- 
out warning,  began  a  far  too  vehement  gratulation. 
Her  cloak  oppressed  her.  She  dropped  it,  and 
stood  leaning  upon  Mother  Pe'che's  shoulder.  She 
grew  suddenly  pale,  breathing  with  effort ;  and  one 
hand  caught  at  her  side. 

The  apparition  made  a  wondrous  stir  on  deck. 
To  those  who  had  ever  heard  of  such  a  being,  it 
appeared  that  the  Witch  of  the  Moon,  in  all  the  in- 
describable magic  of  her  beauty,  had  been  trans- 
lated into  flesh.  Men  seemed  upon  the  instant  to 
find  an  errand  to  that  quarter  of  the  ship.  Captain 
Eliphalet  Wrye,  who  had  been  watching  with  great 
unconcern  a  transfer  whose  significance  seemed 
to  him  quite  ordinary,  came  forward  in  haste,  eager 
to  do  the  honours  of  his  ship,  and  marvelling 
beyond  measure  at  such  a  guest.  Captain  Elipha- 
let had  traded  much  among  the  French  of  Aca- 
die  and  New  France.  He  knew  well  the  difference 

246 


The  Divine  Right  of  Queens       247 

between  the  seigneurial  and  the  habitant  classes ; 
and  this  knowledge  was  just  what  he  needed  to 
make  his  bewilderment  complete. 

"  Here's  the  captain  of  the  ship  coming  to  see 
you,  cherie!  "  whispered  Mother  Pe'che,  squeezing 
the  girl's  arm  significantly.  Yvonne  steadied  her- 
self with  an  effort,  and  turned  a  brilliant  glance 
upon  this  important  stranger.  With  his  rough 
blue  reefing-jacket,  extremely  broad  shoulders,  and 
excessively  broad  yellow-brown  beard,  Captain 
Eliphalet  looked  to  her  just  as  she  thought  a 
merchant-captain  ought  to  look.  She  therefore 
approved  of  him,  and  awaited  his  approach  with  a 
smile  that  put  him  instantly  at  ease.  As  he  came 
up,  however,  hat  in  hand  and  with  considered 
phrases  on  his  lips,  the  old  woman  forestalled  him. 

"  Let  me  present  you,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine," 
said  she,  stepping  forward  with  a  courtesy,  "  to  my 
mistress,  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie,  of  Lamourie 
Place." 

"  It  is  but  ashes,  alas  !  monsieur,"  interrupted 
Yvonne,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  The  ship  is  yours,  Mademoiselle  de  Lamou- 
rie !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  bowed  with  a  gesture  of 
relinquishing  everything  to  her  command.  It  was 
not  for  nothing  Captain  Eliphalet  had  visited  Mon- 
treal and  Quebec. 

Yvonne  dropped  her  lids  for  a  second,  and  shook 
her  head  rebukingly. 


248  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  That  is  not  English,  monsieur,"  she  protested, 
"  but  it  is  very  nice  of  you.  I  should  not  know 
what  to  do  with  a  ship  just  now;  but  I  like  our 
little  pleasant  French  fictions." 

Captain  Eliphalet,  however,  could  be  French  for 
a  moment  only. 

"  But  you,  mademoiselle,  you  —  how  comes  such 
a  one  as  you  to  be  sailing  away  into  exile?  " 

Yvonne's  long  lashes  drooped  again,  and  this 
time  did  not  rise  so  quickly. 

"  I  have  reason  to  think,  monsieur,"  she  answered 
gravely,  "  that  dear  friends  and  kinsfolk  of  mine 
are  on  this  ship,  themselves  going,  fettered,  into 
exile.  I  could  not  stay  behind  and  let  them  go 
so.  But  enough  of  myself,  monsieur,  for  the 
present,"  she  went  on,  speaking  more  rapidly. 
"  I  want  to  ease  the  anxieties  of  these  poor  souls 
who  have  come  with  me.  Is  there  among  your 
prisoners  a  young  man  known  as  '  Petit  Joliet'  ? 
Here  is  his  mother  come  to  look  for  him." 

Captaki  Eliphalet  summoned  a  soldier  who  stood 
near,  and  put  the  question  to  him  in  English. 

"  There  is  one  by  the  name  of  Franse  Joliet  on 
the  roll,  captain,"  answered  the  red-coat,  saluting. 

"  That's  he  !  That's  my  boy  !  "  cried  his  mother, 
catching  the  name.  She  had  been  waiting  close 
by  with  a  strained,  fixed  face,  which  now  went 
to  pieces  in  a  medley  of  smiles  and  tears,  like  a 
reflection  on  still  water  suddenly  broken.  She 


The  Divine  Right  of  Queens       249 

clutched  Yvonne's  hands,  blessed  and  kissed  them, 
and  then  rushed  off  vaguely  as  if  to  find  Petit 
Joliet  in  durance  behind  some  pile  of  ropes  or 
water-butt. 

"And  Lenoir  —  Tamin  Lenoir,"  continued 
Yvonne,  her  voice  thrilling  with  joy  over  her  task, 
"  and  Michel  Savarin.  Are  they,  too,  in  the 
hold?" 

"  Yes,  miss,"  said  the  soldier,  saluting  again, 
and  never  taking  his  eyes  from  her  face.  She 
turned  to  the  two  women  in  their  restless  fringe  of 
clingers ;  and  they,  more  sober  because  more 
hampered  in  their  delight,  thanked  her  devoutly, 
and  moved  off  to  learn  what  more  they  could 
elsewhere. 

Meanwhile  another  figure  had  drawn  near  —  a 
figure  not  unknown  to  Yvonne's  eyes. 

When  she  first  appeared  Lieutenant  Shafto,  the 
English  officer  in  command  of  the  guard,  was 
pacing  the  quarter  deck,  stiffly  remote  and  inex- 
pressibly bored.  He  had  two  ambitions  in  life  — 
the  one,  altogether  laudable  and  ordinary,  to  be  a 
good  officer  in  the  king's  service ;  the  other, 
more  distinguished  and  uncommon,  to  be  quoted 
as  an  example  of  dress  and  manners  to  his  fellow- 
men.  In  London  he  had  achieved  in  this  direc- 
tion sufficient  success  to  establish  him  steadfastly 
in  his  purpose.  Ordered  to  Halifax  with  his  regi- 
ment, he  had  there  found  the  field  for  his  talent 


250  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

sorely  straitened.  At  Grand  Pre,  far  worse  :  it  was 
reduced  to  the  dimensions  of  a  back-door  plot. 
Here  on  shipboard  it  seemed  wholly  to  have 
vanished.  Nevertheless,  for  practice,  and  for  the 
preservation  of  a  civil  habit,  he  had  clung  to  his 
niceties.  Now,  when  he  saw  Yvonne,  his  first 
thought  was  to  thank  Heaven  he  had  been  as  par- 
ticular with  his  toilet  that  morning  as  if  about  to 
walk  down  Piccadilly. 

He  fitted  his  glass  to  his  eye. 

"  Gad  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  it  really  is  !  " 

He  removed  the  glass,  and  giving  it  a  more 
careful  readjustment,  stared  again. 

"  Gad  !  "  said  he,  "  it  is  none  other !  A  devilish 
fine  girl !  She  couldn't  be  beat  in  all  London  for 
looks  or  wits.  What  does  it  mean?  Given  that 
cad  Anderson  the  slip,  eh?  Discriminating,  be- 
gad !  " 

Lieutenant  Shafto  had  a  definite  contempt  for 
Anderson,  as  a  man  who  sat  by  the  fire  when  he 
might  have  been  fighting.  If  a  man  fought  well 
or  dressed  well,  Shafto  could  respect  him.  Ander- 
son did  neither.  He  was  therefore  easily  placed. 

"There's  something  rich  behind  this,"  went 
on  the  lieutenant  to  himself.  "  But,  gad  !  there  is 
a  savour  to  this  voyage,  after  all.  There's  a  pair 
of  bright  eyes  —  devilish  bright  eyes  —  to  dress 
for !  " 

He  hitched  his  sword  to  a  more  gallant  angle 


The  Divine  Right  of  Queens       251 

as  he  stepped  primly  down  the  deck.  He  gave 
the  flow  of  his  coat  an  airy  curve.  He  would 
have  felt  of  his  queue  had  he  dared,  to  assure 
himself  it  was  dressed  to  a  nicety.  He  glanced 
with  complaisance  at  his  correct  and  entirely  spot- 
less ruffles.  And  by  this  he  was  come  to  made- 
moiselle's side,  where  he  stood,  bowing  low,  his 
cap  held  very  precisely  across  his  breast. 

"  The  honour,  mademoiselle  !  Ah,  the  marvel 
of  it!"  he  murmured.  "  The  ship  is  transfigured. 
I  was  but  now  anathematizing  it  as  a  most  especial 
hell :  I  looked  up,  and  it  had  become  a  paradise 
—  a  paradise  of  one  fair  spirit !  " 

Yvonne  looked  at  him  with  searching  eyes  as 
he  delivered  this  fantasia,  then  a  trifle  imperiously 
gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss. 

She  had  spoken  passingly  with  him  twice  or 
thrice  before,  at  Father  Fafard's.  She  understood 
him  —  read  him  through:,  a  man  absurd,  but 
never  contemptible ;  to  be  quite  heartily  disliked, 
yet  wholly  trusted ;  to  be  laughed  at,  yet  dis- 
creetly ;  vain,  indomitable,  a  fighter  and  a  fop ; 
living  for  the  field  and  the  hair-dresser.  Here 
was  a  man  whom  she  would  use,  yet  respect  him 
the  while. 

"  You  do  nobly,  monsieur,"  she  said,  with  a 
faint,  enigmatic  smile,  "  to  thus  keep  the  light  of 
courtly  custom  burning  clear,  even  in  our  dark- 
nesses." 


252  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  There  can  be  no  darkness  where  your  face 
shines,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  delighted  not  less 
with  himself  than  with  her. 

It  was  a  little  obvious,  but  she  accepted  it 
graciously  with  a  look,  and  he  went  on : 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  let  me  place  my  cabin  at 
your  disposal  during  the  voyage.  You  will  find  it 
narrow,  but  roomy  enough  to  accommodate  you 
and  your  maid." 

Here  Captain  Eliphalet  interfered. 

"  I  claim  the  privilege,  mademoiselle,"  said  he, 
with  some  vexation  in  his  tones,  "  of  giving  you  the 
captain's  cabin,  which  is  by  all  odds  the  most 
commodious  place  on  the  ship  —  the  only  place 
at  all  suitable  for  you." 

"  The  captain  is  right,"  said  Shafto  reluctantly. 
"  His  cabin  is  the  more  comfortable ;  and  I  beg 
him  to  share  mine." 

In  this  way,  then,  the  difficulty  was  settled,  and 
Yvonne  found  herself  in  quarters  of  unwonted 
comfort  for  a  West  India  trader,  Captain  Eliphalet 
being  given  to  luxury  beyond  the  most  of  his 
Puritan  kin.  She  was  contented  with  her  accom- 
plishment so  far  as  it  went ;  and  having  two  gal- 
lant men  to  deal  with  she  felt  already  secure  of  her 
empire.  She  read  approbation,  too,  in  those  enig- 
matic eyes  of  Mother  P£che,  with  their  whites  ever 
glancing  and  gleaming.  Moreover,  as  she  sat 
down  to  luncheon,  to  the  condiment  of  a  bound- 


The  Divine  Right  of  Queens       253 

ing  heart  and  so  much  appetite  as  might  nourish 
a  pe-wee  bird,  she  had  two  points  gained  to  elate 
her.  First,  in  passing  the  open  hatchway  which, 
as  Captain  Eliphalet  told  her,  led  to  the  prisoners' 
quarters,  she  had  shaken  lightly  from  her  lips 
enough  clear  laughter  to  reach,  as  she  guessed, 
those  ears  attuned  to  hear  it ;  and  second,  she  had 
the  promises  both  of  the  broad-bearded  captain 
and  the  beautifully  barbered  lieutenant,  that  her 
cousins,  Monsieur  de  Mer  and  Monsieur  Paul 
Grande,  should  be  brought  on  deck  to  see  her 
that  very  day. 

"  You  should  be  very  good  to  them,  gentlemen," 
she  said  demurely,  picking  with  dubious  fork  at 
brown  strips  of  toasted  herring  on  her  plate.  "  My 
cousin  Marc  especially.  He  is  half  English,  you 
know.  He  has  the  most  adorable  English  wife, 
from  Boston,  with  red  hair  wherein  he  easily  per- 
suades himself  that  the  sun  rises  and  sets." 

"  If  you  would  have  us  love  them  for  your  sake, 
mademoiselle,  love  them  not  too  much  yourself," 
laughed  the  broad-bearded  Captain  Eliphalet,  in 
vast  good-humour;  but  the  admirable  lieutenant 
murmured : 

"There  is  no  hair  but  black  hair — black  with 
somehow  a  glint  in  it  when  the  sun  strikes  —  so." 

And  Mother  Pe~che,  passing  behind  them  and 
catching  a  flash  from  Yvonne's  eye,  smiled  many 
thoughts. 


Chapter   XXXIV 
The  Soul's  Supremer  Sense 

AT  this  point  it  seems  proper  that  I  should 
once  more  speak  in  my  own  person;  for 
at  this  point  the  story  of  my  beloved  once  more 
converges  to  my  own. 

I  was  awakened  out  of  a  bitter  dream  by  Marc's 
lips  moving  at  my  ear  in  the  stealthiest  whisper. 
The  first  pallor  of  dawn  was  sifting  down  amongst 
us  from  the  open  hatch,  opened  for  air.  I  nodded 
my  head  to  signify  I  was  awake  and  listening. 
There  was  a  ringing  gabble  of  small  waves  against 
the  ship's  side,  covering  up  all  trivial  sounds ;  and 
I  knew  we  were  tacking. 

"  Listen  now,  Paul,"  said  Marc's  obscure  whis- 
per, like  a  voice  within  my  head.  "  We  have 
made  a  beginning  earlier  than  we  planned,  because 
the  guards  were  sleepy,  and  the  noise  of  these 
light  waves  favoured  us.  You  knew,  or  guessed, 
we  had  a  plan.  That  wily  fox,  La  Mouche, 
brought  a  file  with  him  in  his  boot.  It  was  sent 
to  him  while  he  was  in  the  chapel  prison.  Grul, 

254 


The  Soul's  Supremer  Sense         255 

none  other,  sent  it  to  him  inside  a  loaf  of  bread 
—  and,  faith,  thereby  came  a  broken  tooth.  Your 
Grul  is  wonderful,  a  deus  ex  machincl  every  time. 
Well,  we  muffled  the  file  in  my  shirt,  and  I  scraped 
away,  under  cover  of  all  this  good  noise,  at  the 
spring  of  La  Mouche's  handcuffs,  till  it  gave.  Now 
he  can  slip  them  on  and  off  in  a  twinkling ;  but  to 
the  eye  of  authority  they  are  infrangible  as  ever. 
Oh,  things  are  coming  our  way  at  last,  for  a  change, 
my  poor  dejected  !  We  will  rise  to-night,  this  very 
coming  night,  if  all  goes  well ;  and  the  ship  will  be 
ours,  for  we  are  five  to  one." 

There  was  a  thrill  in  his  whisper,  imperturbable 
Marc  though  he  was.  Under  the  long  chafing  of 
restraint  his  imperturbability  had  worn  thin. 

My  own  blood  flowed  with  a  sudden  warmth  at 
his  words.  Here  was  a  near  hope  of  freedom, 
and  freedom  would  mean  to  me  but  one  thing 
—  a  swift  return  to  the  neighbourhood  where  I 
might  achieve  to  see  Yvonne.  I  felt  the  strong 
medicine  of  this  thought  working  health  in  every 
vein. 

"But  how  to-night?"  I  whispered  back,  un- 
willing to  be  too  soon  sanguine.  "It  takes  time 
to  file  fetters,  riest-ce  pas  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  trust  La  Mouche !  "  replied  Marc. 
"  He  understands  those  bracelets  —  as  you,  my 
cousin,  in  days  you  doubtless  choose  to  forget, 
understood  the  more  fragile,  but  scarce  less  fetter- 


256  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

ing,  ones    affected  by  fair  arms    in  Montreal,  or 
Quebec,  or  even  Trois  Pistoles." 

I  took  it  ill  of  my  cousin  to  gall  my  sore  at  such 
a  moment,  but  I  strictly  held  my  tongue ;  and 
after  a  vexing  pause  he  went  on : 

"This  wily  La  Mouche — with  free  hands  and 
the  knowing  how,  it  is  but  a  turn  and  a  click,  and 
the  thing  is  off.     It  will  be  no  mean  weapon,  too, 
when  we're  ready  to  wield  it." 
I  stretched  fiercely. 

"  Pray  God  it  be  to-night !  "  I  muttered. 
"  S-sh-sh  !  "  whispered  Marc  in  my  ear.     "  Not 
so  loud,  boy !     Now,  with  this  to  dream  on,  go  to 
sleep    again.     There'll  be    something  to  keep  us 
awake  next  night." 

"  And  when  we've  got  the  ship,  what  then?  "  I 
whispered,  feeling  no  doubt  of  our  success. 

"  We'll  run  into  the  St.  John  mouth,"  was  the 
answer,  "  and  then,  leaving  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, with  such  men  as  will  stay,  at  the  Jemseg 
settlement,  we  will  strike  overland  on  snow-shoes 
for  Quebec." 

"  And  I  for  Grand  Pre,"  said  I  doggedly. 
I  heard  the  ghost  of  a  laugh  flit  from  Marc's 
lips. 

"  Good  dog  !     Hold  fast !  "  said  he. 
There  was  no  gainsaying  it.     I  was  better.     For 
perhaps  an  hour  or  two  I  slept  like  a  baby,    to 
awake  deeply  refreshed.     A  clear  light  came  down 


The  Soul's  Supremer  Sense         257 

the  hatch,  and  there  was  a  busy  tramping  of  sailors 
overhead.  It  was  high  morning. 

We  were  all  awake,  but  silent.  Sullen  we  might 
have  seemed,  and  hopelessly  submissive,  but  there 
was  an  alertness  in  the  eyes  flashing  everywhere 
toward  Marc  and  me,  such  as  might  have  been 
warning  to  a  folk  less  hardily  indifferent  than  our 
captors.  Two  red-coated  guards,  taxed  with  the 
office  of  preventing  conspiracy,  paced  up  and 
down  with  their  heads  high  and  heeded  us  little. 
"What  could  these  poor  hand-cuffed  wretches  do, 
anyway?  "  was  the  palpable  significance  of  their 
mien. 

We  desired  indeed,  at  that  time,  to  do  nothing 
save  eat  the  breakfast  of  weevilly  biscuits  just  now 
served  out  to  us,  with  good  water  still  sweet  from 
the  wells  of  vanished  Grand  Pre.  When  one  has 
hunger,  there  is  rare  relish  in  a  weevilly  biscuit ; 
and  I  could  have  desired  more  of  them  than  I 
got.  With  our  fettered  hands  we  ate  like  a  colony 
of  squirrels. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  it  was  not  difficult, 
the  guards  being  so  heedless,  to  pass  whispered 
word  from  one  to  another,  so  that  soon  all  Marc's 
plans  were  duly  laid  down.  His  was  the  devising 
and  ordering  head,  while  La  Mouche,  for  all  his 
subtlety,  and  long  Philibert  Trou,  for  all  his  craft, 
were  but  the  wielded  instruments.  It  was  an 
unwonted  part  for  me  to  be  playing,  this  of  blindly 


258  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

following  another's  lead;  but  Marc  had  done  well, 
seeing  my  heavy  preoccupation,  to  make  no  great 
demand  upon  my  wits.  My  arm,  he  knew,  would 
be  ready  enough  at  need.  I  was  not  jealous.  I 
wanted  to  fight  the  English ;  but  I  wanted  to 
think  —  well,  of  just  one  thing  on  earth.  Look- 
ing back  now,  I  trust  I  would  have  been  more 
useful  to  our  cause  that  morning  had  not  Marc's 
capacity  made  wits  of  mine  superfluous. 

Throughout  the  morning  we  were  all  so  quiet 
that  the  ship's  rats,  lean  and  grey,  came  out  and 
ate  the  few  crumbs  we  had  let  drop.  Neverthe- 
less, ere  an  hour  before  noon  every  man  knew  the 
part  he  was  to  play  in  the  venture  of  next  night. 
Long  Philibert  and  La  Mouche,  with  two  other 
Acadian  woodsmen  skilled  in  ambuscade,  were  to 
deal  with  the  guard  silently.  Marc  and  I,  with  no 
stomach  for  aught  but  open  warfare,  were  to  lead 
the  rush  up  through  the  hatchway,  to  an  excellent 
chance  of  a  bayonet  through  our  gullets.  I  felt 
justified  now,  however,  in  considering  as  to 
whether  I  should  be  likely  to  find  Yvonne  still  at 
Grand  Pre,  casting  a  ray  of  beauty  on  the  ruins, 
or  at  Halifax,  disturbing  with  her  eyes  the  deliber- 
ations of  the  governor  and  his  council. 

I  said  —  one  hour  before  noon.  About  that  time 
the  speed  of  the  ship  sensibly  slackened,  and  there 
seemed  presently  a  confusion,  an  excitement  of 
some  sort  upon  deck.  We  heard  hails  and  sharp 


The  Soul's  Supremer  Sense        259 

orders.  There  was  a  sound  as  of  people  coming 
on  board.  And  then,  of  a  sudden,  a  strange 
trembling  seized  upon  me.  It  was  in  every  nerve 
and  vein,  and  my  heart  shook  merely,  instead  of 
beating.  Such  a  feeling  had  come  over  me  once 
before  —  when  Yvonne's  eyes,  turned  upon  me 
suddenly,  seemed  to  say  more  than  her  lips  would 
have  permitted  her  to  acknowledge.  With  a  faint 
laugh  at  the  very  madness  of  it  I  could  not  but 
say  to  Marc: 

"  I  think  that  is  Yvonne  coming!  " 

Whereupon  he  looked  at  me  solicitously,  as  if  he 
thought  I  was  about  to  be  taken  with  some  sick- 
ness. 

I  bit  my  tongue  for  having  said  it. 

Before  many  minutes,  however,  footsteps  passed 
near  the  hatchway,  and  again  the  trembling  took 
me.  Then  I  caught  a  ripple  of  clear  laughter  — 
life  has  never  afforded  to  m'y  ears  other  melody 
so  sweet  as  that  laughter  was,  and  is,  and  always 
will  be.  I  sprang  straight  upon  my  feet,  but 
instantly  sat  down  again.  Marc  himself  had  heard 
it  and  was  puzzled,  for  who  that  had  ever  heard 
the  laughter  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie  could  for- 
get it? 

"  It —  is  she  !  "  I  said  to  him,  in  a  thick  voice. 


Chapter  XXXV 
The  Court  in  the  Cabin 

IT  is  marvel  to  us  now  how  the  next  hours  of 
suspense  did  pass.  Yet  pass  they  did,  and 
in  a  joy  that  was  fairly  certitude ;  for  I  could  not 
doubt  the  witness  of  my  inmost  soul.  At  length  I 
saw  that  Marc  believed  also.  His  grave,  dark 
face  grew  luminous  as  he  said,  after  long  balanc- 
ing of  the  matter : 

"  Her  eyes,  my  Paul,  have  opened  at  the  last 
instant,  and  she  has  chosen  exile  with  thee  !  Even 
so  would  Prudence  have  done.  And  seeing  how 
thou,  my  comrade,  lovest  her,  I  am  ready  to  be- 
lieve she  may  be  almost  such  another  as  Prudence. 
Wherefore  she  is  here,  quod  erat  demonstran- 
dum !  " 

Even  as  he  spoke,  a  soldier  came  down  the 
ladder  and  stood  before  us. 

"  I  am  bidden  to  say,"  said  he,  "  that  Made- 
moiselle de  Lamourie  desires  to  see  Captain  de  Mer 
and  Captain  Grande  on  deck;  and  I  am  ordered 
by  Lieutenant  Shafto  to  fetch  you  at  once." 

260 


The  Court  in  the  Cabin  261 

With  such  haste  as  was  possible  —  it  is  not 
easy  when  handcuffed  to  climb  ladders  —  we 
made  our  way  on  deck,  and  straight  came  Yvonne 
running  to  meet  us,  both  small  hands  outstretched. 
Her  eyes  sank  into  mine  for  just  one  heart-beat 
—  and  that  look  said,  "  I  love  you."  Then  her 
guarded  face  grew  maidenly  impartial. 

"  My  friends  !  My  dear  friends  !  "  she  cried ; 
but  stopped  as  if  she  had  been  struck.  Our  hands 
had  not  gone  forth  to  meet  hers.  Her  eyes  fell 
upon  our  fetters.  She  turned  slowly  toward  Cap- 
tain Eliphalet  and  Lieutenant  Shafto,  who  had 
followed  close  behind  her.  Flame  gathered  in 
her  eyes,  and  a  dark  flush  of  indignation  went  over 
her  face.  She  pointed  at  our  handcuffs. 

"This  to  my  friends  —  in  my  presence!  "  she 
cried.  "  Of  a  truth  your  courtesy  is  tempered, 
gentlemen  !  " 

With  an  angry  exclamation  Captain  Eliphalet 
sprang  forward  to  remove  the  offending  irons; 
but  the  exquisite  lieutenant  was  too  quick  for 
him.  At  a  sign  the  guard  who  had  brought  us 
slipped  them  off,  and  stood  holding  them  behind 
his  back,  while  his  officer  was  left  free  to  make 
apologies. 

These  were  abundant,  and  of  such  a  tone  as  to 
leave  no  doubt  of  their  sincerity.  Moreover,  by 
his  manner,  he  included  Marc  and  myself  in  his 
expressions  of  regret,  which  proved  sound  policy 


262  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

on  his  part,  and  went  far  to  win  his  pardon  from 
Yvonne. 

"  Believe  me,  mademoiselle,"  he  concluded,  "  it 
was  never  for  one  moment  intended  that  these 
gentlemen,  your  friends,  officers  in  the  French 
army,  and  therefore,  though  my  enemies,  yet  hon- 
oured members  of  my  own  profession,  should  thus 
obtrude  upon  your  gentle  eyes  those  chains,  with 
which  not  their  fault,  but  the  chances  of  our  pro- 
fession have  for  a  season  embarrassed  them." 

This  was  so  apt  and  so  elegant  a  conclusion  that 
Captain  Eliphalet  felt  himself  urged  to  some  great 
things,  if  he  would  not  be  quite  eclipsed  in  his 
guest's  entrancing  eyes. 

"  Indeed,  mademoiselle,"  he  made  haste  to  say, 
"  as  these  gentlemen  are  your  friends  and  kinsmen, 
and  you  have  dared  so  splendidly  for  their  sake, 
they  may  say  good-by  to  the  irons  for  the  rest 
of  the  voyage,  if  they  will  but  give  their  word 
of  honour  that  they  will  in  no  way  use  their 
liberty  to  the  detriment  of  my  duties  and  respon- 
sibilities, nor  to  free  any  of  the  other  prisoners." 

He  turned  to  us  with  a  very  hearty  air.  Yvonne 
looked  radiant  with  satisfaction.  Lieutenant 
Shafto's  face  dropped  —  for  he  doubtless  thought 
our  continued  freedom  would  much  limit  his  priv- 
ileges with  Yvonne.  But  I  spoke  up  at  once,  fore- 
stalling Marc. 

"  I  need  hardly  assure  you,  Monsieur  le  Capi- 


The  Court  in  the  Cabin  263 

taine,  that  we  do  from  our  hearts  appreciate  your 
most  generous  courtesy.  But  beyond  the  few 
hours  of  freedom  which  we  dare  hope  you  may 
grant  us  each  day,  for  the  priceless  solace  of  our 
fair  kinswoman's  company,  we  cannot  in  conscience 
accept  a  favour  that  would  too  enviably  distinguish 
us  from  our  fellows." 

Captain  Eliphalet  looked  unaffectedly  aston- 
ished. Yvonne  looked  hurt  and  disappointed  for 
a  moment ;  then  her  face  changed,  and  I  saw  that 
her  swift  brain  was  drawing  intricate  inferences  from 
this  strange  rejection  of  parole  —  to  which  Marc 
had  assented  in  a  word.  As  for  the  elegant  Mr. 
Shafto,  however,  he  was  frankly  delighted. 

"  Right  soldierly  said,  gentlemen !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  A  good  officer  stands  by  his  men.  I 
am  honoured  in  meeting  you !  "  and  with  a  very 
precise  civility  he  shook  hands  with  us  in  turn. 

"But  it  is  very  cold  here,  is  it  not?"  cried 
Yvonne,  with  a  little  shiver,  pulling  her  cloak  close. 
"  Let  me  invite  you  all  to  my  cabin." 

This  invitation  she  gave  with  a  flying  radiance 
of  look  at  Captain  Eliphalet,  wherewith  he  stood 
a  millionfold  rewarded. 

In  the  cabin  I  was  not  greatly  astonished,  though 
more  than  greatly  pleased,  to  find  Mother  P£che. 
The  undisguised  triumph  in  her  eyes  said,  "  Didn't 
I  tell  you  ?  "  —  and  in  involuntary  response  to  the 
challenge  I  thrust  my  hand  into  my  breast  and  felt 


264  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

the  little  deerskin  pouch  containing  the  tress  of  hair 
and  the  mystic  stone.  She  smiled  at  the  gesture. 

I  pressed  the  dear  old  witch's  hand,  and  said  in 
a  low  voice : 

"  In  all  my  life  to  come  I  cannot  thank  you 
enough.  But  isn't  it  wonderful?  I'm  in  fear  each 
moment  of  waking,  and  to  find  it  a  dream." 

"  She  is  a  dream,  Master  Paul !  "  said  the  old 
dame.  "  And  see  how  all  men  dream  when  they 
look  upon  her  !  " 

With  a  jealous  pang  I  realized  the  truth  of  what 
she  said ;  and  thereupon  I  made  haste  to  Yvonne's 
side,  where  I  saw  Marc,  Shafto,  and  Captain  Eliph- 
alet  all  hanging  devoutly  upon  her  words.  I  was 
but  a  dull  addition  to  the  sprightly  circle,  for  I 
was  wondering  how  I  should  manage  to  get  a  word 
with  her. 

Had  I  but  known  her  better  I  need  not  have  won- 
dered. Presently  she  broke  off  in  the  midst  of 
a  sparkling  tirade,  laid  her  hand  upon  my  arm, 
and  said : 

"  Will  you  pardon  me,  gentlemen,  but  I  have  a 
brief  word  awaiting  the  ear  of  Captain  Grande," 
and  calmly  she  walked  me  off  to  the  cabin 
door. 

"  I  presumed,  perhaps  too  hastily,  that  you  still 
wanted  me,  dear,"  was  what  she  said. 

I  dared  not  look  straight  at  her,  for  I  knew  that 
if  I  did  so  my  face  would  be  a  flaunting  proclama- 


The  Court  in  the  Cabin  265 

tion  of  my  worship.  I  could  but  say,  in  a  voice 
that  strove  for  steadiness  : 

"  Beloved,  beloved  !  have  you  done  all  this  for 
me?" 

A  happy  mirth  came  into  her  voice  as  she 
answered : 

"  No,  Paul,  not  quite  all  for  you  !  I  had  to 
think  a  little  of  a  certain  good  man,  madly  bent 
on  marrying  a  woman  who  would,  alas  !  (I  know  it 
too  well)  have  made  him  a  most  unpleasant  wife. 
George  Anderson  will  never  know  what  I  saved 
him  from.  But  you  may,  Paul?  Aren't  you  a 
little  bit  afraid?" 

I  am  well  aware  that  in  this  supreme  moment  I 
betrayed  no  originality  whatever.  I  could  only  re- 
peat myself,  in  expressions  which  I  need  not  set 
down.  Trite  as  they  were,  however,  she  forgave 
them. 

"We  have  so  much 'to  talk  about,  dear,"  she 
said,  "  but  not  now.  We  must  go  back  to  the 
others ;  and  I  must  take  your  cousin  Marc  aside 
as  I  have  done  with  you,  so  that  this  won't  look 
too  strange.  Does  he  like  me  —  approve  of  me?  " 
she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Second  only  to  his  little  Puritan  he  loves 
you,"  said  I.  "  He  knows  everything." 

Then,  just  as  we  turned  back  to  the  others,  I 
whispered  in  her  ear: 

"  Be  prepared  for  events  to-night !  " 


266  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

She  gave  me  a  startled  look,  understanding  ax 
once.  Then  indeed,  as  now,  whatever  is  in  my 
mind  she  is  apt  to  read  as  if  it  were  an  open 
book. 

"  So  soon?    Oh,  be  careful  for  my  sake  !  " 

I  could  give  no  answer,  for  by  this,  the  cabin 
being  small,  we  were  quite  returned  from  our 
privacy. 

For  perhaps  two  hours  Yvonne  entertained  us, 
not  only  conversing  herself  with  a  gracious  wit 
that  struck  but  to  illumine,  never  to  wound,  but 
calling  forth  a  responsive  alertness  in  her  cava- 
liers. Captain  Eliphalet  began  to  wonder  at  his 
own  readiness  of  repartee  and  compliment.  Lieu- 
tenant Shafto  forgot  the  perfect  propriety  of  his 
ruffles,  engrossed  for  once  in  another  than  him- 
self. Even  my  imperturbable  Marc  yielded  in 
some  measure  to  the  resistless  bewilderment,  and 
played  the  gallant  with  a  quaint,  fatherly  air  that 
pleasured  me.  I,  only,  was  the  silent  one.  I 
could  but  listen,  intoxicated,  speaking  when  I 
could  not  escape  it,  and  my  ears  averse  to  all 
words  but  those  coming  from  her  lips. 

By  and  by  —  I  was  vexed  that  his  discretion 
should  bring  the  moment  so  soon  —  Marc  made 
his  adieux,  insisting  against  much  protest  that  he 
desired  to  keep  his  welcome  unworn  for  the  mor- 
row. I  could  do  naught  save  follow  his  example ; 
but  as  I  withdrew,  Yvonne's  eyes  held  me  so  that 


The  Court  in  the  Cabin  267 

my  feet  in  going  moved  like  lead.  The  broad- 
bearded  captain  and  the  impeccable  lieutenant 
most  civilly  accompanied  us  to  the  door  of  our 
prison. 

"  This  situation,  gentlemen,"  said  Marc,  with  a 
smile  of  careless  amusement,  "  which  your  cour- 
tesy does  so  sweeten  for  us,  is  certainly  not  with- 
out the  relish  of  strangeness." 

"  It  shall  be  made  as  little  strange  as  lies  in 
our  power  to  make  it,  sir,"  replied  Captain 
Eliphalet  heartily ;  and  we  parted  with  all  expres- 
sions of  esteem ;  not  till  their  backs  were  turned 
upon  us  did  we  extend  our  wrists  for  the  irons, 
which  the  discreet  guard  had  kept  hidden  under 
the  flap  of  his  great-coat. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Sword  and  Silk 

THAT  night  the  weather  fell  thick,  and,  the 
wind  freshening  suddenly,  the  ship  dropped 
anchor.  Captain  Eliphalet  Wrye  was  not  so 
familiar  with  the  reefs  and  tides  of  Fundy  that  he 
cared  to  navigate  her  waters  in  the  dark.  This 
we  considered  very  favourable  to  our  enterprise ; 
for  the  tide  running  strongly,  and  the  wind 
against  it,  kicked  up  a  pother  that  made  the  hold 
reecho. 

The  time  agreed  upon  was  toward  three,  when 
those  asleep  are  heaviest.  I  think  that  most  of 
our  men  slept,  but  with  that  consciousness  of 
events  impending  which  would  bring  them  wide 
awake  on  the  instant.  Marc,  I  know,  lay  sleeping 
like  a  child.  But  for  me  no  sleep,  no  sleep  indeed. 
I  could  not  spare  a  minute  from  the  delight  of 
thinking  and  dreaming.  Here  I  lay  in  irons,  a 
captive,  an  exile, — but  my  beloved  had  come. 

"  She  has  come,  my  beloved  !  "  I  kept  saying 
over  and  over  to  myself. 

268 


Sword  and  Silk  269 

Then  I  tried  planning  for  our  future ;  but  the 
morrow  promised  her  presence,  and  for  the  time 
I  could  not  get  my  thoughts  past  that.  There 
was  no  need  to  discount  future  joy  by  drawing 
bills  of  dear  anticipation.  But  it  was  tonic  to  my 
brain  to  look  back  upon  the  hopeless  despair  in 
which  I  had  lain  weltering  so  few  hours  before. 
Now  they  seemed  years  away  —  and  how  I 
blessed  their  remoteness,  those  sick  hours  of 
anguish  !  Yes,  though  I  had  not  given  up  my 
purpose,  I  had  surely  given  up  the  hope  that 
kept  it  alive.  Then  Mother  P£che's  soothsaying 
over  the  lines  of  my  palm  came  back  to  me : 
"  Your  heart 's  desire  is  nigh  your  death  of  hope  /" 

Wonderful  old  woman  !  How  came  such  wisdom 
to  your  simple  heart,  with  no  teachers  but  herbs, 
and  dews,  and  stillnesses  of  the  open  marsh,  and 
hill-whispers,  and  the  unknown  stars?  Out  of 
some  deep  truth  you  spoke,  surely;  for  even  as 
my  hope  died,  had  not  my  heart's  desire  come? 
And  I  said  to  myself,  "  It  is  but  a  narrow  and 
shallow  heart  that  expects  to  understand  all  it 
believes.  Do  we  not  walk  as  men  blindfolded  in 
the  citadel  of  mystery?  What  seem  to  us  the  large 
things  and  unquestionable  may,  the  half  of  them, 
be  vain  —  and  small,  derided  things  an  uninter- 
preted  message  of  truth  1  " 

My  revery  was  broken  by  Marc  laying  free  hands 
upon  mine. 


270  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  Are  you  awake?  "  he  whispered.  "  The  time 
has  come.  See  !  This  is  the  way  to  open  them." 
And  very  easily,  as  it  seemed,  he  slipped  the  iron 
from  my  wrists. 

"  Feel !  "  he  went  on,  in  the  same  soft  whisper. 
I  followed  his  fingers  in  the  dimness.  There 
was  no  light  but  the  murk  of  a  smoky  Ian- 
thorn  some  way  off,  where  the  guards  sat  deject- 
edly smoking,  —  and  I  caught  the  method  of 
unlocking  the  spring.  "  Free  your  next  neighbour, 
and  pass  the  word  along,"  continued  Marc ;  and 
I  did  so.  It  was  all  managed  with  noiseless 
precision. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  — which  seemed  an  hour  — 
there  was  a  sneeze  from  the  furthermost  corner  of 
the  hold,  beyond  the  place  where  the  guards  sat. 
It  was  not  the  most  natural  and  easy  sneeze  in  the 
world,  but  it  served.  It  was  answered  by  another 
from  the  opposite  corner.  The  shrill,  silly  sound 
was  yet  in  the  air  when  the  ominous  form  of  long 
Philibert  Trou  loomed  high  behind  the  sitting 
guards  and  fell  upon  one  of  them  like  fate ;  while 
at  the  same  moment,  like  a  springing  cat,  the  lithe 
figure  of  La  Mouche  shot  up  at  the  other's  throat. 

For  such  skilled  hands  it  was  but  a  moment's 
work,  and  no  noise  about  it.  Like  the  rising  of 
an  army  of  spectres,  every  man  came  silently  to 
his  feet.  Seizing  the  musket  of  the  nearest  guard, 
where  he  lay  motionless,  I  glided  to  the  hatch, 


Sword  and  Silk  271 

just  far  enough  ahead  of  Marc  to  get  my  foot  first 
on  the  ladder. 

As  I  reached  the  deck  the  sentry,  not  three 
paces  distant,  was  just  turning.  With  a  yell  to 
warn  his  comrades  he  sprang  at  me.  Nimbly  I 
avoided  his  bayonet  thrust,  and  the  butt  of  my 
musket  brought  him  down.  I  had  reserved  my 
fire  for  the  possibility  of  a  more  dangerous  en- 
counter. 

There  were  shouts  along  the  deck  —  and  shots 
—  and  I  saw  sailors  running  up,  and  then  more 
soldiers  —  and  I  sprang  to  meet  them.  But 
already  Marc  was  at  my  side,  and  a  dozen,  nay,  a 
score,  of  my  fellow-captives.  In  a  breath,  as  it 
were,  the  score  doubled  and  trebled  —  the  hold 
seemed  to  spout  them  forth,  so  hotly  they  came. 

There  were  but  few  shots,  and  a  fall  or  two  with 
groans.  The  thing  was  over  before  it  was  well 
begun,  so  perfect  had  been  the  surprise.  We  had 
all  who  were  on  deck  in  irons,  save  for  three  slain 
and  one  grievously  wounded.  Those  who  had 
been  asleep  in  their  bunks  when  the  alarm  was 
given  now  promptly  gave  themselves  up,  soldiers 
and  sailors  alike,  being  not  mad  enough  to  play 
out  a  lost  game.  Handcuffs  were  abundant,  which 
made  our  work  the  simpler. 

As  I  went  forward,  wondering  where  Shafto  was 
this  while,  I  was  met  by  La  Mouche  and  two  others 
leading  a  prisoner.  It  was  Captain  Eliphalet,  with 


272  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

blood  on  his  face,  sorely  dazed,  but  undaunted. 
Indignation  and  reproach  so  struggled  within  him 
that  he  could  not  for  the  moment  find  speech. 

"  Pardon,  I  beseech  you,  Captain  Wrye,"  I  made 
haste  to  say,  "  the  need  which  has  compelled  me 
to  make  such  rude  return  for  your  courtesy. 
This,"  and  I  tapped  his  irons  with  my  finger, 
"  is  but  for  an  hour  or  two  at  most,  till  we  get 
things  on  our  ship  fitly  ordered.  Then,  believe 
me,  you  will  find  that  this  is  merely  a  some- 
what abrupt  reversal  of  the  positions  of  host  and 
guest." 

I  fear  that  Captain  Eliphalet's  reply  was  going 
to  be  a  rude  one,  but  if  so  it  was  quenched  at  his 
lips.  The  door  of  the  cabin  opened,  a  bright  light 
streamed  forth,  and  down  it  glided  Yvonne  in  her 
white  gown,  the  black  lace  over  her  head. 

"  Oh,  Paul,  what  has  happened  ?  Are  you  —  are 
you  safe  ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly,  'twixt  laughing 
and  tears.  The  shooting  and  shouting  had  aroused 
her  roughly. 

"  Quite  safe,  my  dearest,"  I  whispered.  "  And 
—  the  ship  is  ours." 

All  that  this  meant  flashed  upon  her,  and  her 
face  flushed,  her  eyes  dilated.  But  before  she 
found  voice  to  welcome  the  great  news,  her  glance 
fell  upon  Captain  Eliphalet's  blood-stained  counte- 
nance, and  her  joy  faded  into  compassion. 

"  Oh !  "    she    cried,    "  you    are    not  wounded, 


Sword  and  Silk  273 

surely,  surely !  "  And  she  pressed  her  hand- 
kerchief pitifully  to  the  blood-spots. 

"  It  is  nothing,  nothing,  mademoiselle,  but  a 
mere  scratch,  or  bruise,  rather,"  stammered  Cap- 
tain Eliphalet.  Then  she  saw  that  his  hands  were 
fettered. 

"  Paul !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  upon  me  a  face 
grown  very  white  and  grave.  "  And  he  was  so 
kind  to  me  !  How  could  you  !  " 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't,  Yvonne,"  said  I. 
"  But  this  is  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

Slipping  off  the  irons  I  tossed  them  into  the  sea. 

"  Captain  Wrye,"  said  I  to  him,  with  a  bow,  "  I 
have  much  yet  to  do,  and  I  must  not  stay  here 
any  longer.  May  I  commit  to  your  charge  for  a 
little  while  what  is  more  precious  than  all  else?  " 

Yvonne  thanked  me  with  a  look,  and  laid  her 
hand  on  the  captain's  arm. 

"We  will  dress  your  wound,  monsieur,"  said 
she.  "  Mother  P£che  has  a  wondrous  skill  in  such 
matters."  And  she  led  the  captain  away. 

By  this  Marc  was  come  up,  with  a  squad  of  his 
men  fully  armed.  Some  half  score  approached 
the  second  cabin.  A  window  opened,  a  thin 
stream  of  fire  flashed  out,  with  a  sharp  report  of  a 
pistol;  and  a  man  fell,  shot  through  the  head. 
Another  report,  with  the  red  streak  in  the  front  of 
it,  and  a  tall  Acadian  threw  up  his  arms,  screamed 
chokingly,  and  dropped  across  a  coil  of  rope. 


274  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

The  precise  Lieutenant  Shafto  had  awakened  to 
the  state  of  affairs. 

"  Down  with  the  door,  men,  before  he  can  load 
again  !  "  shouted  Marc,  springing  forward  ;  and  long 
Philibert  picked  up  a  light  spar  which  lay  at  hand, 
very  well  suited  to  the  purpose. 

But  there  was  no  need  of  it.  The  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  in  the  light  from  Yvonne's  cabin 
was  revealed  the  form  of  the  English  officer.  He 
stood  in  his  doorway,  very  angry  and  scornful,  the 
point  of  his  sword  thrust  passionately  against  the 
deck  in  front  of  him.  A  fine  and  a  brave  figure 
he  was,  as  he  stood  there  in  his  stockings,  breeches, 
and  fairly  berufHed  shirt  —  for  he  had  not  just 
now  taken  time  to  perfect  his  toilet  with  the  cus- 
tomary care.  In  this  attitude  he  paused  for  a 
second,  lightly  springing  his  sword,  and  scowling 
upon  us. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  surrender,  monsieur,"  said 
Marc,  advancing.  "  The  ship  is  in  our  hands.  I 
shall  be  glad  to  accept  your  parole." 

"  I  will  not  surrender !  "  he  answered  curtly. 
"  If  there  be  a  gentleman  among  you  who  can  use 
a  sword,  I  am  willing  to  fight  him.  If  not,  I  will 
see  how  many  more  of  this  rabble  I  can  take  with 
me."  And  he  jerked  his  head  toward  the  two 
whom  he  had  shot  down. 

"I  will  cross  swords  with  you,"  I  cried,  getting 
ahead  of  Marc,  "and  will  count  myself  much 


Sword  and  Silk  275 

honoured  in  meeting  so  brave  a  gentleman.  But 
you  English  took  my  sword  from  me,  and  up 
to  the  present  have  neglected  to  give  it  back." 

"  I  have  swords,  of  course,  monsieur,"  he  re- 
plied, his  face  lighting  with  satisfaction  as  he 
stepped  back  into  his  cabin  to  get  them. 

But  some  one  else  was  not  satisfied.  Yvonne's 
hands  were  on  my  arm — her  eyes,  wide  with 
terror,  imploring  mine.  "  Don't !  It  will  kill  me, 
dear !  Oh,  what  madness  !  Have  you  no  pity 
for  me  !  "  she  gasped. 

I  looked  at  her  reassuringly,  not  liking  to  say 
there  was  ho  danger,  lest  I  should  seem  to  boast ; 
and  so  instant  was  her  reading  of  my  thought  that 
even  as  I  looked  the  fear  died  out  of  her  face. 

"It  is  nothing,  dear  heart.  Ask  Marc,"  I 
whispered.  She  turned  to  him  with  the  question 
in  her  eyes. 

"  Paul  is  the  best  sword  in  New  France,"  said 
Marc  quietly,  "  not  even  excepting  my  father,  the 
Sieur  de  Briart." 

Now  so  quickly  was  the  confidence  of  my  own 
heart  transferred  into  the  heart  of  my  beloved  that 
she  was  no  more  afraid.  Indeed,  what  she  said  was : 

"  You  must  not  hurt  him,  Paul !  He  has  been 
very  nice  to  me ! "  and  this  in  a  voice  so  clear 
that  Shafto  himself  heard  it  as  he  came  out  with 
the  swords.  It  ruffled  him,  but  he  bowed  low  to 
her  in  acknowledgment  of  her  interest. 


276  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  They  are  of  the  same  length.  Choose,  mon- 
sieur !  "  said  he,  holding  them  out  to  me. 

I  took  the  nearest  —  and  knew  as  soon  as  the 
hilt  was  in  my  hand  that  it  was  an  honest  weapon, 
of  English  make,  something  slow  in  action  and 
lacking  subtlety  of  response,  but  adequate  to  the 
present  enterprise.  Lanthorns  were  brought,  and 
so  disposed  by  Marc's  orders  that  the  light  should 
fall  fairly  for  one  as  for  the  other.  The  English- 
man had  regained  his  good  temper,  —  or  a  civil 
semblance  of  it,  —  and  marked  the  preparations 
with  approval. 

"  You  have  had  abundant  experience,  I  per- 
ceive, in  the  arbitrament  of  gentlemen,"  said  he. 

"  My  cousin  has,  in  particular,  monsieur,"  re- 
plied Marc  dryly.  Whereupon  Mr.  Shafto  turned 
upon  me  a  scrutiny  of  unaffected  interest. 

A  moment  more,  and  the  swords  set  up  that 
thin  and  venomous  whispering  of  theirs.  Now, 
what  I  am  not  going  to  do,  even  to  please  Yvonne, 
is —  undertake  to  describe  that  combat.  She  wishes 
it,  because  under  my  instruction  she  has  learned 
to  fence  very  cunningly  herself.  But  to  me  the 
affair  was  unpleasant,  because  I  saw  from  the  first 
a  brave  gentleman,  and  a  good  enough  swordsman 
as  these  English  go,  hopelessly  overmatched.  I 
would  not  do  him  the  discredit  of  seeming  to  play 
with  him.  He  fenced  very  hotly,  too.  He  wanted 
blood,  being  bitter  and  humiliated.  After  a  few 


Sword  and  Silk  277 

minutes  of  quick  play  I  thought  it  best  to  prick 
him  a  little  sharply  in  the  arm.  The  blood 
spurted  scarlet  over  his  white  sleeve  ;  and  I  sprang 
back,  dropping  my  point. 

"Are  you  satisfied,  monsieur?  "  Tasked. 

"No,  never!  Guard  yourself,  sir!"  he  cried 
angrily,  taking  two  quick  steps  after  me. 

During  the  next  two  minutes  or  so  he  was  so 
impetuous  as  to  keep  me  quite  occupied;  and  I 
was  about  concluding  to  disarm  him,  when  there 
came  a  strange  intervention.  It  was  most  irregu- 
lar ;  but  the  wisest  of  women  seem  to  have  small 
regard  for  points  of  stringency  in  masculine  eti- 
quette. At  a  most  knowingly  calculated  moment 
there  descended  between  us,  entangling  and  divert- 
ing the  points  of  our  weapons,  — what  but  a  flutter 
of  black  lace ! 

"  I  will  not  have  either  of  you  defeated !  "  came 
Yvonne's  voice,  gayly  imperious.  "  You  shall  both 
of  you  surrender  at  once,  to  me  !  There  is  no  dis- 
honour, gentlemen,  in  surrendering  to  a  woman  !  " 

It  was  a  most  gracious  thought  on  her  part,  to 
save  a  brave  man  from  humiliation;  and  my  wor- 
ship of  her  deepened,  if  that  were  possible.  As 
for  the  elegant  Mr.  Shafto,  he  was  palpably  taken 
aback,  and  glowered  rudely  for  a  space  of  some 
seconds.  Then  he  came  to  himself  and  accepted 
the  diversion  with  good  grace.  With  a  very  low 
bow  he  presented  his  sword-hilt  to  Yvonne,  saying : 


278  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

"  To  you,  and  to  you  only,  I  yield  myself  a 
prisoner,  Mademoiselle  de  Lamourie." 

Yvonne  took  the  sword,  examined  it  with  gay 
concern  on  this  side  and  on  that,  tried  it  against 
the  deck  as  she  had  seen  him  do,  and  then,  without 
so  much  as  a  glance  at  Marc  or  me  for  permission, 
gravely  returned  it  to  him. 

"  Keep  it,  monsieur,"  she  said.  "  I  have  no  use 
for  it  at  present ;  and  I  trust  to  hold  my  prisoners 
whether  they  be  armed  or  defenceless." 

"  That  you  will,  mademoiselle,  I'll  wager," 
spoke  up  Captain  Eliphalet,  just  behind. 


Chapter  XXXVII 
Fire  in  Ice 

SOME  while  after,  as  in  my  passing  to  and  fro 
I  went  by  the  cabin  for  the  fiftieth  time,  my 
expectation  came  true :  the  door  opened,  and 
Yvonne,  close  wrapped  in  her  great  cloak,  stood 
beside  me.  I  drew  her  under  the  lee  of  the  cabin, 
where  the  bitter  wind  blew  less  witheringly.  The 
first  of  dawn  was  just  creeping  bleakly  up  the  sky, 
and  the  ship  was  under  way. 

"  You  are  cold,  dear,"  exclaimed  Yvonne 
beneath  her  breath,  catching  my  hand  in  her  two 
little  warm  ones;  and,  faith  !  I  was,  though  I  had 
not  had  time  to  notice  it  till  she  bade  me.  The 
next  moment,  careless  of  the  eyes  of  La  Mouche, 
who  stood  by  the  rail  not  ten  paces  off,  she  opened 
her  cloak,  flung  the  folds  of  it  about  my  neck,  and 
drew  my  face  down,  in  that  enchanted  darkness,  to 
the  sweet  warmth  of  hers. 

There  were  no  words.  What  could  those  vain 
things  avail  in  such  a  moment,  when  our  pulses 
beat  together,  and  our  souls  met  at  the  lips,  and 

279 


280  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

in  silence  was  plighted  that  great  troth  which  shall 
last,  it  is  my  faith,  through  other  lives  than  this? 
Then  she  drew  softly  away,  and,  with  eyes  cast 
down,  left  me,  and  went  back  into  her  cabin. 

I  lifted  my  head.  La  Mouche  stood  by  the  rail, 
looking  off  across  the  faintly  lightening  water.  As 
I  passed  near  him  he  turned  and  grasped  my  hand 
hard. 

"  I  am  most  glad  for  you,  my  captain !  "  he  said 
quietly.  But  I  saw  that  my  joy  was  an  emphasis 
to  his  own  sorrow,  and  his  very  lips  were  grey  for 
remembrance  of  the  woman  who  had  stricken  him. 

When  it  was  full  daylight  we  could  see  the  other 
ship,  a  white  speck  on  the  horizon  far  ahead. 
Long  before  noon  she  was  out  of  sight.  The  wind 
favouring  us  all  day,  before  sunset  we  arrived  off 
the  grim  portal  through  which  the  great  river  of 
St.  John,  named  by  Champlain,  empties  forth  its 
floods  into  the  sea.  The  rocky  ridges  that  fence 
the  haven  were  crested  gloriously  with  rose  and 
gold,  and  toward  this  inviting  harbourage  we 
steered —  not  without  misgivings,  however,  for  we 
knew  not  the  channel  or  the  current.  In  this  strait 
we  received  unlooked-for  aid.  Captain  Eliphalet, 
excited  by  some  error  in  the  course  which  we 
were  shaping,  and  all  in  a  tremble  lest  his  loved 
ship  fall  upon  a  reef,  offered  his  services  as  pilot. 
They  were  at  once  accepted.  We  knew  he  was 


Fire  in  Ice  281 

as  incapable  of  a  treachery  as  his  situation  was 
of  turning  a  treachery  to  profit.  Himself  he  took 
the  wheel ;  and  on  the  slack  of  tide  he  steered  us 
up  to  a  windless  anchorage  at  the  very  head  of  the 
harbour,  beside  the  ruins  of  an  old  fort.  The  only 
sign  of  life  was  the  huts  of  a  few  Acadian  fishermen, 
so  miserable  as  to  have  been  quite  overlooked  by 
the  doom  that  had  descended  on  their  race. 

Our  plan  was  to  scatter  the  greater  part  of  our 
company  among  the  small  Acadian  settlements  up 
the  river  —  at  Jemseg,  Pointe  Ste.  Anne,  and  Me- 
doctec  ;  while  the  rest  of  us,  the  trained  men  who 
would  be  needed  in  New  France,  accompanied  by 
a  half  dozen  women  with  daring  and  vitality  for 
such  a  journey,  would  make  our  way  on  sledges 
and  snow-shoes  northward,  'over  the  Height  of 
Land,  down  into  the  St.  Lawrence  valley,  and 
thence  to  Quebec. 

The  two  carronades  on  the  deck  of  our  ship 
we  dropped  into  the  harbour.  We  helped  ourselves 
to  all  the  arms  and  ammunition,  with  tools  for  the 
building  of  our  sledges,  and  such  clothing  as  our 
prisoners  could  well  spare.  Of  the  ship's  stores 
we  left  enough  to  carry  the  ship  safely  to  Boston. 
Yvonne  gave  Lieutenant  Shafto  a  letter  for  her 
father  and  mother,  which  he  undertook  to  forward 
to  Halifax  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  Then,  three 
days  after  our  arrival  in  the  St.  John,  we  loosed 
our  captives  every  one,  bade  Captain  Eliphalet  a 


282  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

less  eventful  remainder  to  his  voyage,  and  turned 
our  back  upon  the  huts  of  the  fishermen.  We 
crossed  the  Kennebeccasis  River  on  the  ice,  where 
it  joins  the  St.  John,  just  back  of  the  ridge  which 
forms  the  northern  rampart  of  the  harbour.  Thence 
we  pushed  straight  up  the  main  river,  keeping 
close  along  the  eastern  shore. 

The  rough  sledges  which  we  had  hastily  thrown 
together  were  piled  with  our  stores.  They  carried 
also  such  of  the  women  and  children  as  were  not 
capable  of  enduring  the  march.  The  sledges  ran 
easily  on  the  level  way  afforded  by  the  river,  which 
was  now  frozen  to  the  depth  of  a  foot.  In  spots  the 
ice  was  covered  by  a  thin,  hard-packed  layer  of 
snow;  b,ut  for  the  most  part  it  had  been  swept 
clean  by  the  wind. 

For  my  own  part,  I  drew  a  light  sledge,  of  which 
I  had  myself  directed  the  construction,  that  it  might 
be  comfortable  for  Yvonne.  It  was  comfortable, 
with  a  back  and  arms,  and  well  lined  with  blankets. 
But  she  chose  rather,  for  the  most  of  the  journey, 
to  walk  beside  me,  secretly  proud  to  show  her 
activity  and  endurance.  It  was  Mother  P£che 
who,  under  strenuous  protest,  chiefly  occupied  my 
sledge.  Her  protests  were  vain  enough;  for 
Yvonne  told  her  quietly  that  if  she  would  not  let 
herself  be  taken  care  of  she  would  not  trust  her  to 
face  the  Quebec  journey,  but  would  leave  her 
behind  at  Jemseg.  Though  the  old  dame  was  a 


Fire  in  Ice  283 

witch,  Yvonne  had  the  will  to  have  her  way; 
and  protest  ended. 

As  we  marched,  a  little  aside  from  the  main  body, 
Yvonne  now  laying  her  mittened  hand  upon  my 
arm,  and  now  drawing  with  me  upon  the  sledge- 
rope,  we  had  exhaustless  themes  of  converse,  but 
also  seasons  for  that  revealing  silence  when  the 
great  things  get  themselves  uttered  between  two 
souls. 

There  were  some  practical  matters,  however,  not 
without  importance,  which  silence  was  not  compe- 
tent to  discuss. 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  at  the  Jemseg  settlement, 
Paul?"  she  chanced  to  ask  me,  that  first  day  of 
our  marching. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  with  significance,  taking  merci- 
less advantage  of  the  question,  "  I  know  an  excel- 
lent priest,  dear  heart !  " 

She  reddened,  and  turned  upon  me  deep  eyes 
of  reproach.  But  I  was  not  abashed. 

"Am  I  too  precipitate,  sweet?"  I  asked. 
"  But  do  not  think  so.  I  know  you  will  not. 
Consider  all  the  strangeness  of  the  situation,  most 
dear,  and  give  me  the  right  to  guard  you,  to  keep 
you,  to  show  openly  my  reverence  and  my  love." 

As  she  did  not  reply,  it  was  clear  enough  that 
she  found  my  reasoning  cogent.  I  went  on,  with 
a  kind  of  singing  elation  in  my  brain : 

"  Truly,  in  my  eyes,  you  are  my  wife  now,  as  — 


284  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

do  you  remember?  —  I  dared  to  call  you  that  night 
as  we  came  over  the  ridge,  I  to  prison,  you 
to —  But  no  !  I  will  not  think  of  that.  In  deed 
and  in  truth,  dear,  I  believe  that  God  joined  to- 
gether us  two,  inalienably  and  forever,  not  months 
ago,  but  years  ago  —  that  day  in  the  orchard, 
when  our  spirits  met  in  our  eyes.  The  material 
part  of  us  was  slow  in  awaking  to  the  comprehen- 
sion of  that  mystery,  but  "  — 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Paul,"  she  interrupted, 
with  tantalizing  suggestion. 

I  stopped  short,  forgetting  all  my  eloquence. 

"  And  you  loved  me  then  —  and  knew  it !  "  I 
exclaimed,  in  a  voice  poignant  with  the  realization 
of  lost  years. 

She  came  very  close  against  my  side,  and  held 
my  arm  tightly,  as  she  said,  in  a  voice  'twixt  mock- 
ing and  caressing: 

"  I  think  I  might  have  known  it,  Paul,  had  you 
helped  me  the  least  little  bit  —  had  the  material 
part  of  you,  let  us  say,  been  the  least  bit  quicker 
of  comprehension." 

She  forbore  to  hint  at  all  that  might  have  been 
different;  but  the  thought  of  it  kept  me  long 
silent. 

On  the  next  day,  about  sunset,  we  reached  the 
Jemseg  settlement.  That  same  day  Yvonne  be- 
came my  wife. 


Chapter  XXXVIII 
Of  Long  Felicity,  Brief  Word 

"  T  TOW  many  years,  dear  heart,  since  we  made 
JL  J.  that  winter  journey,  thou  and  I,  from 
Jemsegto  Quebec,  through  the  illimitable  snows?" 
"  Ten !  "  answers  Yvonne  ;  and  the  great  eyes 
which  she  lifts  from  her  writing  and  flashes  gayly 
upon  me  grow  tender  with  sweet  remembrance. 
During  those  ten  years  the  destinies  of  thrones 
have  shifted  strangely  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  fate. 
Empires  have  changed  hands.  New  France  has 
been  erased  from  the  New  World.  Louisbourg 
has  been  levelled  to  a  sheep  pasture.  Quebec  has 
proved  no  more  impregnable.  The  flag  of  Eng- 
land flies  over  Canada.  My  uncle,  the  Sieur  de 
Briart,  sleeps  in  a  glorious  grave,  having  fallen 
with  Montcalm  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  My 
cousin  Marc  and  I,  having  fought  and  bled  for 
France  in  all  the  last  battles,  and  lain  for  months 
in  an  English  hospital,  have  accepted  the  new 
masters  of  our  country  and  been  confirmed  in 
our  little  estates  beside  the  Ottawa. 
285 


286  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Redeeming  my  promise  to  Grul,  I  have  aided 
him  in  his  vengeance  on  the  Black  Abbe  —  a 
strange,  dark  tale  which  I  may  one  day  set 
down,  if  ever  time  makes  it  less  painful  to  my 
memory. 

Much,  then,  have  I  endured  in  these  ten  years. 
But  the  remembrance  of  it  appears  to  me  but  as  a 
tinted  glass,  through  which  I  am  enabled  to  con- 
template the  full  sun  of  my  happiness. 

Yvonne  in  these  ten  years  has  changed  but  to 
grow  more  beautiful.  Bodily,  there  was,  I  think, 
no  room  for  that  change ;  but  growth  is  the  law  of 
such  a  spirit  as  hers,  and  so  into  her  perfect  eyes, 
wells  of  light  as  of  old,  has  come  a  deeper  and 
more  immeasurable  wisdom.  As  to  this  perennial 
potency  of  her  beauty,  I  know  that  I  am  not  de- 
luded by  my  passion ;  for  I  perceive  the  homage 
it  compels  from  all  who  come  within  its  beneficent 
influence.  Even  her  mother,  a  laughingly  mali- 
cious critic,  tells  me  that  my  eyes  see  true  in  this 
—  (for  Giles  de  Lamourie,  having  sold  his  ample 
acres  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  forgiven  ancient  grudges, 
has  come  here  to  live  with  Yvonne).  Father 
Fafard,  when  he  visits  us  from  his  Bonaventure 
parish,  says  the  same ;  but  his  eyes  are  blind 
with  loving  prejudice.  When  we  go  into  Montreal 
for  the  months  of  December  and  January,  ex- 
changing for  a  little  the  quiet  of  our  country 
home  for  the  glitter  of  rout  and  function,  no  other 


Of  Long  Felicity,  Brief  Word       287 

court  so  choice,  so  loyal,  and  so  revering  as  that 
which  Yvonne  gathers  about  her.  The  wise, 
drawn  by  her  wit,  are  held  fast  by  her  beauty ; 
while  the  gay,  drawn  by  her  beauty,  rise  to  a  wor- 
ship of  her  wit  and  worth. 

Yvonne's  small  hands  are  white  and  alive  and 
restless  as  on  that  day  in  the  Grand  Pre  orchard 
when,  prying  into  the  heart  of  the  apple-blossom, 
they  pried  into  and  set  fast  hold  upon  the  strings 
of  my  heart  also.  But  this  life  of  mine,  given 
into  the  keeping  of  their  sweet  restlessness,  has 
found  the  secret  of  rest. 

One  thing  more  of  her,  and  I  have  done  with 
this  narrative ;  for  they  who  live  blest  have  little 
need  or  power  to  depict  their  happiness.  It 
seems  to  me,  in  looking  back  and  forward,  that 
my  wife  delights  particularly  in  setting  at  naught 
the  cheap  wisdom  of  the  maxim-mongers.  How 
continually  are  men  heard  to  declare,  with  the 
tongue  of  Sir  Oracle :  "  We  don't  woo  what  is 
well  won  "  ! 

But  Yvonne,  well  won  these  ten  years  back,  I 
woo  again  continually,  and  our  daily  life  together 
is  never  without  the  spur  of  fresh  interest  and 
further  possibilities. 

"  The  familiar  is  held  cheap,"  say  the  disap- 
pointed ;  and  "  Use  dulls  the  edge  of  passion,"  say 
they  whose  passion  has  never  known  the  edge 
which  finely  tempered  spirits  take  on. 


288  A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

But  familiarity,  the  crucial  intimacy  of  day  by 
day  companionship,  only  reveals  to  me  in  Yvonne 
the  richer  reasons  for  my  reverence  ;  while  passion 
grows  but  the  more  poignant  as  it  realizes  the 
exhaustless  depths  of  the  nature  which  responds 
to  it. 

The  mean  poverty  of  these  maxims  I  had  half 
suspected  even  before  I  knew  Yvonne.  But  one, 
more  universally  accepted,  to  the  effect  that 
"  Anticipation  beggars  reality,"  had  ever  caused 
me  a  certain  fear,  lest  it  might  prove  true.  The 
husband  of  my  dear  love  has  fathomed  its  false- 
hood, and  anticipation,  in  my  case,  was  little 
moderate  in  its  demands.  If  there  be  any  germ 
of  truth  under  that  long-triumphant  lie,  then  the 
reason  we  two  have  not  discovered  it  must  be 
sought  in  another  life  than  this.  This  life  cannot 
be  the  full  reality.  Even  so,  my  confident  faith  is 
that  the  .lying  adage  will  but  seem  to  lie  the  more 
shamelessly  under  a  fuller  revelation.  Many  times 
have  I  told  Yvonne  that  to  me  one  life  seemed 
not  enough  for  love  of  her. 

As  I  conclude,  I  look  across  the  room  to  where 
the  beautiful,  dark,  proud  head  bends  over  her 
desk ;  for  she  has  outstripped  me  in  my  own  art 
of  letters,  and  only  my  old  achievements  with  the 
sword  enable  me  to  maintain  that  dominance 
which  the  husband,  even  of  Yvonne,  ought  to 
have. 


Of  Long  Felicity,  Brief  Word      289 

She  will  not  approve  these  last  few  pages.  She 
will  demand  their  erasure,  declaring  them  extrava- 
gant and  an  offence  against  the  reticence  of  tru'e 
art. 

But  not  one  line  will  I  expunge,  for  they  are 
true. 


THE  END. 


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size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra- 
tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

With  illustrations  by  Martin  Justice. 

"  As  superlatively  clever  in  the  writing  as  it  is  entertaining  in  the 
reading.  It  is  actual  comedy  of  the  most  artistic  sort,  and  it  is 
handled  with  a  freshness  and  originality  that  is  unquestionably 
novel." — Boston  Transcript.  "  A  feast  of  humor  and  good  cheer, 
yet  subtly  pervaded  by  special  shades  of  feeling,  fancy,  tenderness, 
or  whimsicality.  A  merry  thing  in  prose.  '* — St.  Louis  Democrat. 

ROSE  O'  THE  RIVER.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.    With 

illustrations  by  George  Wright. 
"  '  Rose  o'  the  River,"  a  charming  bit  of  sentiment,  gracefully 


Record-Herald.  "An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita- 
ble humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life.  — London  Mail. 

TILLIE:    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inheritance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed."—  The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
•'  The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author." — New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach." — London  Times.  "In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter." — North  American  Review. 

THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAR.  By  Henry  K.  Webster. 
"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story." — New  York  Times.  "Intense- 
ly thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
IN   POPULAR    PRICED    EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra- 
tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BARREL  OF  THE  BLESSED  ISLES.       By  Irving  Bach- 

eller.  With  illustrations  by  Arthur  Keller. 
"Barrel,  the  clock  tinker,  is  a  wit,  philosopher,  and  man  of  mystery. 
Learned,  strong,  kindly,  dignified,  he  towers  like  a  giant  above  the 
people  among  whom  he  lives.  It  is  another  tale  of  the  North  Coun- 
try, full  of  the  odor  of  wood  and  field.  Wit,  humor,  pathos  and  high 
thinking  are  in  this  book." — Boston  Transcript. 

D'RI  AND  I :  A  Tale  of  Daring  Deeds  in  the  Second  War 
•with  the  British.  Being  the  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Ramon 
Bell,  U.  S.  A.  By  Irving  Bacheller.  With  illustrations  by 
F.  C.  Yohn. 

"  Mr.  Bacheller  is  admirable  alike  in  his  scenes  of  peace  and  war. 
D'ri,  a  mighty  hunter,  has  the  same  dry  humor  as  Uncle  Eb.  He 
fights  magnificently  on  the  '  Lawrence,'  and  was  among  the  wounded 
when  Perry  went  to  the  '  Niagara."  As  a  romance  of  early  American 
history  it  is  great  for  the  enthusiasm  it  creates." — New  York  Times. 

EBEN  H OLDEN  :  A  Tale  of  the  North  Country.    By  Irving 

Bacheller. 

"  As  pure  as  water  and  as  good  as  bread,"  says  Mr.  Howells.  "Read 
'  Eben  Holden  '  "  is  the  advice  of  Margaret  Sangster.  "  It  is  a  forest- 
scented,  fresh-aired,  bracing  and  wholly  American  story  of  country 
and  town  life.  *  *  *  If  in  the  far  future  our  successors  wish  to 
know  what  were  the  real  life  and  atmosphere  in  which  the  country 
folk  that  saved  this  nation  grew,  loved,  wrought  and  had  their  being, 
they  must  go  back  to  such  true  and  zestfuland  poetic  tales  of 'fiction' 
as  '  Eben  Holden,'  "  says  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 

SILAS  STRONG:  Emperor  of  the  Woods.  By  Irving  Bach- 
eller. With  a  frontispiece. 

"  A  modern  Leatherstocking.  Brings  the  city  dweller  the  aroma  of 
the  pine  and  the  music  of  the  wind  m  its  branches— an  epic  poem 
*  *  *  forest-scented,  fresh-aired,  and  wholly  American.  A  stronger 
character  than  Eben  Holden." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 

VERGILIUS:  A  Tale  of  the  Coming  of  Christ.  By  Irving 
Bacheller. 

A  thrilling  and  beautiful  story  of  two  young  Roman  patricians  whose 
great  and  perilous  love  in  the  reign  of  Augustus  leads  them  through 
the  momentous,  exciting  events  that  marked  the  year  just  preceding 
the  birth  of  Christ. 

Splendid  character  studies  of  the  Emperor  Augustus,  of  Herod  and 
his  degenerate  son,  Antipater,  and  of  his  daughter  "the  incomparable'* 
Salome.  A  great  triumph  in  the  art  of  historical  portrait  painting. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


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